Chapter Twenty-Two: The Waltz of Aggressive Negotiations; the Paper-Thin Distinction between Comrade and Enemy.

Zach looked to the memo board for what had to have been the forty-fifth time at least, then at the clock: a whole thirty seconds had managed to go by between checks this time. He sighed, looking at the Zaitrons in the Mjolnir. They were about the only things that could keep his mind off of the lack of communication from Requiem and Dan. He tapped his foot for a moment, moistening his lips, and finally looked over to the others.

"So…anyone hear from the others y—"

"Damn it!" An irritated woman's voice resounded from the Codec in his ear, making him wince. "For the last time, I'll tell you when I hear from them! Knock it off! I'm still analyzing the data Jade Hawk sent me, and it's hard enough to remember these hash functions without your yakking!"

Tony, who had nearly stumbled over a box of tools he had been messing around with, trying to look busy, snapped around and quirked a brow. "…What's she talking about?"

"Who knows? We've been out of the loop for hours now." Zach shrugged. "I'm just ticked they haven't checked in."

His friend paused before responding—a company of soldiers walked by, and Tony quickly started picking up the dropped tools. Only once they were gone did he look up. "Maybe the place is just really damn big."

"Maybe, but still…what do we do if things go bad? By my count, we got at least three guys who want us dead."

"Chill. If things go sour —I mean, real bad— we just play it cool all the way back to Los Midas and break for it then. No one knows we're here."

Zach pulled out a technician's rag and wiped his head with it. "I guess…so long as we can get Troy and that dame back here in a hurry, and in one piece…." He gestured around. "…Good thing no one cares about a few jittery repairmen, eh?"

A loud whistle rang out from the other side of the hangar. "Hey, techie!"

Zach nearly dropped his rag; Tony almost tripped over his box again. Both quickly snapped their bodies around and into attention…at least, what they figured was attention, based on their stereotypes of the military and what they had seen.

What they saw made both of the Ravens feel more than a little nervous: one of the flight officers had addressed them. Definitely a military type, his blond hair was crew-cut, he had clearly been working out to keep his weight down and his muscles fit, he wore numerous medals, and his eyes had the sharp look of a Zaitron pilot's. Just the sight of him —much less being approached— intimidated Zach a bit.

Stay cool…

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

The man came to a halt and crossed his arms. "…Got that right, greenhorn. From what the rest of the boys tell me, you've been more or less just hanging around admiring our babies all day."

Zach began to sweat and tense up. Had he been discovered?

"—You a Zaitron fanatic or something?"

Immediately, the gang member eased a bit. So that's what this is about!

While he still felt nervous, at least that didn't mean he'd been found out. He and Tony exchanged a look, and then he turned back. "…Well, I won't deny I'm a fan of solidly-built mechs, Captain—always hoped I could pull off being a Zaitron pilot one day."

He expected mockery for this, or a tongue lashing, or maybe some bragging. He got none of the above.

"…Is that so?" The officer grinned. "How'd you like to be my gunner when I deploy?"

Zach's jaw nearly hit the floor. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. He looked around a bit, almost expecting someone to jump on him, or yell "psych!", or something, to show this was all a joke—but nothing of that nature came. In disbelief, he looked back to the pilot. "…Seriously? I mean…n-n-no disrespect, sir, but am I even allowed to be gunner of a military orbital frame?"

"You are if I say so! My gunner had to be an idiot—went out to get lucky at a local brothel. All he got was a broken toe and, if he's lucky, some disciplinary action for tarnishing the Aurino image overseas." The captain snickered at his gunner's foolishness. "—So I figured I'd teach him a bit of a lesson by having one of the reserve guys head out with me, and I noticed you didn't do half bad on the simulators. This isn't even really so much a mission as a ceremonial fly-by anyways, so I figure, what the heck—might as well throw a dreamer a bone. You want in, or not?"

This mission had suddenly gotten quite a bit more pleasant for Zach. He swallowed a little, but realized his chance to fly in one of these things was right in front of him, and he'd be an idiot to snub his nose at it. "Well, hell yes. I mean—well—if you're really cool with it, sir, then it'd be an honor!"

"Uh, Zach…?" Tony began to speak up. The officer didn't catch that as he held out a hand to the younger man. Zach stared for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it, took the hand, and shook.

"Captain Victor Allston of the Blitz Bolt Squadron—you can just call me Allston. Hurry up and suit up; we head out in five minutes." He reached over and patted Zach's shoulder. "Ease up there—I'd only have to shoot you if you were a spy, kid!"

Allston snickered a bit at the joke, and Zach managed a small laugh as well; Tony swallowed loudly. Before he could say anything to Zach, though, his companion turned to him. "Be back in a bit, man. Just let everyone know where I am."

Before Tony could formulate a protest, Zach had already turned and bolted like a kid with a new toy.

Zach was nearly quivering with excitement by the time he'd managed to cram into a spare orange pilot suit, and feeling very grateful that they had one in his size. He was practically hopping up and down by the time he ran back up to Captain Allston and looked up at the cold steel beauty of the pilot's Jupiter Zaitron.

Seventeen meters tall, rippling with steel "muscles", fully loaded, and so recently serviced that he could smell the fresh oil in the servos, it gleamed in its fresh purple, white, and black painted armor like it was fresh out of the factory.

"Man, that's slick!" he couldn't help but exclaim, going fully back into "street mode" for a moment.

Victor put on a helmet that matched his suit as he walked up to a special lift. More like a cherry picker than a traditional elevator, it had the sole purpose of raising pilots and gunners so they could enter and exit their cockpits. "Got her serviced just today, so you'd better not plan on getting her scratched." He smiled at Zach. "Now, head on over here, techie."

Quickly, Zach ran onto the platform. A moment later, Allston disengaged the locks on the hoist, and they were slowly lifted up before the mechanical colossus, the size of the machine putting Zach in awe as they neared the cockpit where it sat in the torso. After a moment, they halted before the giant breastplate.

The eyes of the Zaitron glowed a dull red and its hydraulics hissed and spat as its torso opened up and the cockpit slid outward a bit, to allow them easier access. It was a bit tighter than the simulators, but Zach spotted the two chairs in this model easily.

The rear one was the pilot's chair; the anterior one was usually reserved for whoever was manning smart weapons, radar, and targeting, although if necessary the pilot could assume control of the gunner's systems.

Allston, with practiced skill, picked his way over the gunner's console and chair and into the back. Zach, quivering with more excitement than even the most adventurous child about to board the front of a roller coaster might feel, slowly climbed in as well.

His body slid into the space like a finger into a glove, as close as it was. He could actually smell the sweat of the previous occupant, and wondered what they must have been doing while flying; sitting in a place like this in an actual battle or mission, soaring through the sky, or leaping into the heat of combat….

Once he was inside, the hydraulics hissed, retracting both of them into the chest cavity, and the breastplate came down, locking them behind four feet of steel, to say nothing of mechanics. The air was cool in there, but Zach was sweating: here he was, actually in the heart of a Zaitron.

Every sound seemed magnified in the space. A moment later, a holographic display generator came to life before him and rapidly formed a globe-shaped system of screens around his head.

Being the co-pilot, it was split into three layers: one was a feed for the main cameras, and the other two were for the independent targeting of multiple weapons—a true advantage in a fight. One of those was for the plasma gun turrets, and the other was for the missile launchers. Even if it was similar to the simulator, just knowing he was in control of live weapons….

Captain Allston wasted little time in activating his own console, pressing various buttons and activating switches before adjusting the mouthpiece on his helmet. "This is Cpt. Victor Allston, requesting permission for takeoff. I have a substitute filling in for Lt. Commander Franz today—Corpsman Raven."

Zach couldn't help but roll his eyes at the ironic choice of pseudonym. Exactly five seconds later, he heard a female voice over his own comm as well as Allston's. "…Acknowledged. You have permission to deploy, Captain."

With a lurch, the entire orbital frame suddenly moved. Zach gave a little jump, feeling goose bumps all over: this was actually it. The hanger bay machinery had locked onto the Zaitron, and was in the process of putting it in the launch catapult.

He had to consciously slow his breathing as he watched the world outside slowly swivel about until the Zaitron faced the closed hanger doors to the docking bay. His breath then nearly caught in his throat as the bay slowly opened before him, revealing nothing but starry skies and, far below, a carpet of white clouds with the occasional mountain peak sticking through them.

The pilot grasped the red control handle. "This is GZX007 Jupiter-Class Zaitron—launch!"

The intense acceleration slammed Zach back into his seat so hard he thought his stomach would be pressed through his spine—one thing the simulators couldn't replicate was the force that resulted from the catapult launch and the dual GZ engines igniting simultaneously.

He almost felt like he had been thrown out of the Zeppelin by a giant, seeing the hanger rapidly shrink in his vision as the mech was launched into wild oblivion. The Zaitron didn't sink, or fall, or even glide, but shot higher into the sky as the engines behind him continued to roar, getting louder and louder. Slowly, he peeled himself off of the seat's back, and gaped in wide-eyed wonder.

I'm really here!

Allston seemed to pick up on Zach's awe, and let his gunner enjoy it for a few moments. After that, the captain turned back to his instruments. "Generator flow is normal; systems are stable and up-to-date. Clean launch—just how I like 'em. Blitz Bolt One is in the air!" He looked down a bit. "So, techie…kick stronger than in the simulations?"

Zach coughed. "…Just a little," he croaked.

"You get used to the Gs after a while—just something the body learns. You should feel lucky we're on a Jupiter; we can barely get these things in the air on some of those older catapults. The Mercury units? …Oh, boy—they have to give those people special training before letting them go full speed, or they black out, just like that!

"Anyway, like I said, this is practically an airshow. Piece of cake—we just fly around, looking important and mighty until our shift is over. I had a mind to perform a few stunts, though, just to show the Rakthians we've still got the best stuff…" He grinned a bit. "…get my drift? —Giving you fair warning!"

Zach nodded back. "I hear ya'."

"Still, we are technically on mission, rather than a training flight, so keep an eye on the radar instrumentation, just in case."

Zach chuckled back, looking out the window.

Maybe this day will turn out alright after all!

---

The area ahead of the two running men —at least, running the best they could on nothing but adrenaline and fear— suddenly gave a violent tremor. A moment later, bits of ceiling broke loose and landed right in their path.

Dan had no idea whether or not this was an accident, but he didn't care; he simply vaulted over it. That wasn't the easiest thing in the world, though. Even if he wasn't already at his limit, Richard was dead weight on his back, as was Greymont, meaning he was carrying a very heavy load—and no doubt Crazy McMurder was still on their tail….

"…Got to hand it to you, man," he called to Voltaire, who was running at his side, "those were some slick moves. We get out of this alive, I'll buy you a round." He panted for a few seconds before adding, "…By the way, what's the plan for that?"

"Nothing special—just get to the entrance and pray that he really does care about hiding himself, because right now I'm thinking all three of those armies could just about tickle him if he decided to chase us," Voltaire dryly answered. "After that, it's mostly praying we don't get discovered and/or blamed for everyone who got butchered here, because at best we'd end up in jail, and at worst we'd start a three-way war."

Dan suddenly swung his head around to look at the debris three rooms back, which was suddenly reduced to dust, and, as he saw flashes of dark magic in the clouds of said material, he winced.

Dan was still gritting his teeth and plowing forward when more debris erupted into flames nearby, nearly knocking both flat as they rushed past the explosion. That man was sure making a lot of noise that didn't seem to be attracting anyone….

"…Was kind of hoping for a better plan than that, man."

"I've got a fistful of tricks left, but only enough strength for a few of them," Voltaire said, "…though, if this works, hopefully that's all we'll need. Remember Deacon?"

"You mean Chicken-Man? Kind of wish he was here right now, believe it or not…."

"He used an acceleration enchantment. I happen to know a little about those myself—never know when you'll have to get out in a hurry. I can't do as much as him, but, so long as Ares doesn't know we're using it, it should get the job done."

Another explosion is heard in the distance, this time the shock-wave knocks out a ceiling chunk so large that Dan had to drop and slide under it…and doing so with Richard in tow wasn't easy. He barely got back to his feet to keep running, panting hard now. "—The hell, dude? Why haven't you done it yet!?"

"If you're not prepared for the burst, you'll go right into a wall and snap your own neck," Voltaire retorted, "and we don't exactly have room for errors! I only have the strength to cast it on one of us; I figured I'd try you, if your reflexes are okay. Feel up to it?"

"—If it gets me out of here faster? Hell yes. Can't be worse than the time I drank too much caffeine…."

Cracking his neck, Voltaire reached out and put his hand on Dan's right shoulder. Quickly he let out a chant, clearly focusing a lot more power and effort into it than he did with normal spells. Soon, his ear stud blazed and his aura lit up around him, before the latter rapidly flowed out and transferred itself to Dan.

The former gang member looked up in stunned surprise: the effect was interesting, to say the least. The whole world suddenly felt like it was running slower and more leisurely, and his panting, grunting, and groaning as he carried himself —and Richard, and Greymont— out was a lot less serious. He couldn't help but grin a bit at the dramatically reduced strain.

"Hell yes—this is more like it!"

Without another word, Dan shifted Richard from his back to one arm, then lashed out and grabbed Voltaire with his other. The red-haired man gave a bit of a yelp as Dan took off, suddenly running twice as fast and carrying both of his allies. Grinning wider at this demonstration of his new speed and power, Dan quickly increased his speed to three-fold, tearing through the halls and feeling like a star runner.

The floor flew by underneath him as if he was in a motorized vehicle, the columns rapidly vanishing and the entrance to the anterior part of the Mausoleum looming just ahead: they were almost back to the public rooms.

With the large entryway just ahead, he decided running wasn't crossing it nearly fast enough. In spite of Voltaire's yelp and flailing, he suddenly squatted and vaulted forward.

Heh…just like Requiem!

In an instant, he had sailed a good twenty yards and passed through the open doors. He touched down with a light thump, and immediately took off again, encouraged more than ever now that he saw light up ahead. It might have just been from street lamps, but it was a godsend to him. He nearly increased his speed again.

"Wait! Wait!" Voltaire shouted. "Go right!"

Dan looked to that side. "—Huh? Why?"

"I've got to make sure we're in the clear!"

Not wanting to risk their capture while he questioned a last-second change in plans, Dan quickly squatted and leapt again, this time shooting in the requested direction. He quickly pivoted on landing, and ran into an antechamber.

As soon as he shot through the entrance, he made right for one of the exhibits…namely, the largest statue he could find. Quickly he slid behind it and planted his feet, letting the other man down for a moment.

In spite of having been carried —or perhaps because of it— Voltaire was panting very hard and needed a moment to compose himself.

"…Hope this works…" Voltaire muttered as he finally held up his hand. Chanting once again, but looking weaker and a bit dizzy this time, he cast a new spell. Dan caught a spellphrase the former gangster had never encountered before: "Occaeco Golbus". As his aura flared, he swung his hand around him…and nothing happened. The aura died a moment later, and then silence reigned.

Dan looked at him. "…You out of juice, man?" he whispered. "—I think that was a dud."

Voltaire looked weaker than ever, and wiped his brow in response. "…Only seems that way," he said, not whispering at all. "What I cast is a sensory-deprivation sphere. It should make us invisible to everyone outside of it—not just vision, but sound, smell, everything. It's only a problem if they wander into the zone—then we're sunk. If it was anyone else, I'd say we just walk out of here, but, seeing as this guy seems to like laughing off everything we do…."

"—Got it." Dan nodded uneasily. "…Never thought I'd wish Rakthians would show up; I'd rather have a Grizanaught eat me…."

The red-haired man started to push himself up. "Let's get out while we can; I'm not sure how long this'll last…."

The two men proceeded to move carefully to the entrance, hoping that their efforts wouldn't be in vain, and unaware of how close they were to dying.

---

After Ares had recovered from Voltaire's trick, he'd instantly chased after his targets, using his magic to either fling or vaporize the rubble in his path away.

Seeing still more obstructions in his path and casually hurling them out of the way with a gravity spell, Ares sighed. "Really, now—those rats must be quite desperate, to think such antics can delay the inevitable. I suppose they got a taste of death, and now want nothing more than to run away. Too bad for them—once you look death in the eye, there's no escape!"

The dark lord slashed through the newest batch of rubble in his path, and found himself in a wide room with multiple exits. Ares' eyes darted around, and, as he noted the dust flying all over the room, he hissed, "…Now, did they try to directly dash for the exit, or try and pull off another trick? Bah—there isn't much time left to waste.

"As infuriating as that archer's mouth is, he's right: getting the attention of the Magna Centurions would not bode well in this stage of the game. In the end, though, their escape will only be a minor nuisance. With the Dragon Helix Emerald secure, my plans are proceeding too fast for any of the nations to stop me…as long as I don't get sloppy."

As Ares was about to choose the pathway to his left, a new, low, raspy male voice suddenly cut in. "Don't be so sure about that, you scheming pillager; committing such grievous crimes won't be easy to escape from!"

Ares paused as he saw two tall men, the taller clad in green clothes and the smaller in blood-red ones. They both had metal gauntlets on, turbans and scarves wrapping their heads, and masks.

He eyed the two new arrivals coolly before tilting his head to one side. "…And just who are you two supposed to be? If you're historians, or tomb-keepers of some sort for the treasure, then you might as well go back to sleep. I assure you, any attempt to stop me will just lead to your becoming another relic in this place. "

The taller of the two men made a fist and barked out harshly, "Arrogant whelp; you won't leave here with the Dragon Helix Emerald! Return what you stole now if you are fond of breathing!"

Ares formed a wild, sadistic grin. "Oh—so sorry, but one of my followers already departed with that trinket. Lament your own sluggishness, before further lamenting daring to oppose me. I know you don't know who I am, but you have really bad timing…."

The smaller of the two robed men clenched his own armored hand and yelled furiously, "Damn it—after all this time, and it's already gone!? Even if it's gone, you will pay dearly for taking what doesn't belong to you! My brother, at the very least this pompous idiot must pay!"

Ares' eyes suddenly narrowed; his ring-shaped wand glowed red. "You may think you're special, but I am far more special than you could possibly be. I'm already in the middle of a game; try to be a new challenger, and your punishments will be most severe."

The two robed figures saw flames start to suddenly dance around the caped man's body; the smaller of the two men rasped, "No matter how much a master of magic you may be, you're not as special as you think you are, bub. You're going to die for being so pigheaded!"

The red-robed man suddenly lunged forward with a punch, his fist extending unnaturally far and heading rapidly towards Ares' face. This caught Ares off-guard, and he was further surprised when a blade extended from the gauntlet. Despite the swiftness of this unusual attack, though, he still reacted quickly enough to intercept the blade with his own weapon; he saw the shock in his attacker's eyes, and calmly commented, "…Nice try, but attacks far sneakier than that have failed to kill me."

The green-clad person growled, "Be cautious, my brother; for all of his boasting, he has a reason to be confident. I can sense much blood and murder in this man's aura."

His comrade snarled, "I can sense it as well, Fatima, but even so, his bloodlust can't surpass mine!"

Ares suddenly formed another mad expression as he snapped, "Oh, I just might surprise you; there is a reason I have the title of God of War, after all!"

His crimson-robed attacker hissed, enraged, "You act like I care—all I want is for you to die!"

The attacker suddenly shot his other arm out; a blade popped out of the limb to mirror his other.

While Ares drew his other blade and parried this second slash with ease, his crimson-clad attacker then suddenly jumped up, aiming his right knee at the dark lord's throat. He therefore swerved his dual-edged swords to block the strike, and the two quickly exchanged a barrage of swift slashes and counters. As Ares saw his opponent was managing to move just as swiftly as himself, he chuckled. "You dance to the beat of combat quite well; you're not—oh?"

As Ares and his attacker tried overpower each other in a blade-lock, the dark mage had heard a furious battle cry, and looked up to see his attacker's partner, Fatima, suddenly above him with a large, black-and-jade-green Tomahawk blade. He quickly dashed backwards to get out of the path of the weapon, doing so only moments before the cloaked man smashed into the ground with such force that the large tiles around the two masked figures were torn up in chunks.

One of these fragments headed right for Ares, and he quickly smashed it away, but, as he did, the man with extendable arms had both of the bladed arms retract, then shoot for Ares' head again. He swerved his head out of the way of his opponent's attacks, but the left arm extended a little farther than the right, simultaneously revealing a spike in the palm.

Just as Ares noticed all of this, his attacker launched the spike like a bullet. Ares was able to swerve his head to keep from being hit in the eye by the needle-like projectile, but still got a graze on one cheek.

He felt blood trickling down his face, and, while the pain he felt was only minor, realizing he had taken damage caused Ares to eye his attackers with raw malice; he suddenly took to the air, hissing malevolently, "I've entertained you dogs far too long; this farce ends now. Begone!"

He then sheathed his blades and made a swift hand-sign, unleashing a stream of black fire. This sudden eruption of fiery magic hit Ares' red-clad attacker before they could react, and, as black flames exploded outwards and filled the room, he chuckled darkly. "…Well, that should drive my point home rather quickly. There still should be just enough time to find those rats…."

Ares was about to resume searching for Richard and the others when the flames filling the room suddenly began to swirl around, compressing into a sphere. The leader of the Ibis Corps then realized that the man he'd hit was apparently unaffected by the spell, and, as they saw Ares attempt to hide his shock, the mysterious individual chuckled. "…You think you're the only authority on magic here? You don't know the true depths of magic, you pompous pretender!"

The man in red suddenly shrank the fireball into an even smaller one, and threw the transformed magic at Ares, but the self-proclaimed God of War quickly deflected his reconfigured spell with his blades. As he smashed the fireball into the wall on his right and saw said wall melt instantly, the dark lord glanced at his attackers, muttering, "…Such mastery of magic is rare in a Rakthian soldier. Are you one of the Jiodisan Union's special bioengineered assassins? Are you two perhaps members of the Shin Tensho clan? Well, it spices up the game quite a bit if that's the case…."

Fatima hefted his Tomahawk with one hand and pointed it at Ares. "We are the ones asking the questions! It doesn't matter where we come from; if you don't give us the right answer, we shall be your death!"

Ares snarled, "I see playing with you has made you far too arrogant; time you realized just how little you know! Chaos—huh!?"

The dark lord had been preparing to make a magical sign with his hand when he'd realized that the limb was twitching uncontrollably. As Ares struggled to control his limb —to no avail— he saw that the red-clad man's blades had a few purple droplets dripping off of the edges. "What—a paralyzing toxin? No; my body should have total immunity to all poisons on Marvados!"

The red-clad man chuckled. "It seems, unlike you'd assumed, you're not aware of everything in this world after all! As I said, that insolence will cost you your life. We may know little about you, but your aura reeks of blood; blood of the innocent! It's clear just from the look in your eyes that you're a deranged, conceited being that doesn't deserve to live!"

Both of the men with turbans charged at Ares, their weapons drawn, and a sudden, psychotic look erupted onto his face. "I deserve to live far more then the likes of simpleminded peons like you! Chaos Nitesco!"

The leader of the Ibis Corps instantly launched his energy-blast spell. With less time to focus his power, the attack he unleashed was far smaller than the one he'd used to overpower Richard's Flare Buster spell, and the two attackers could —and did— simply side-step out of the way, though they soon felt an explosion powerful enough to throw them off-balance erupt behind them.

The leader of the Ibis Corps made a current of raw darkness circle around him as he muttered icily, "Your sheer lack of manners is wearing my patience thin! Nero Vein!"

Seeing his attackers still trying to reach him, Ares quickly cast another spell; the ground around him suddenly began to ripple, turn darker in color, and liquefy, resulting in the two cloaked attackers sinking into the floor like they were in quicksand.

While the two mysterious men quickly tried to pull themselves out, the rocks around them suddenly morphed into shark-like jaws that immediately attempted to gnash their bodies into bloody chunks; Ares saw Fatima slashing away at the rocks with his large weapon, and quickly picked up his own, cackling. "I assure you, while you might have thrown me off-guard, a little thing like this is not nearly enough to do me in; I just have to focus a little harder to repress your venom's effects. If I was not on a busy timetable, I would proceed to show you my full wrath, and submit you insolent clowns to true despair!

Alas, I can't let my ego cause me to overlook the fact that my docket is full; I'm not about to let my greater ambitions unravel for petty trash like you! You two are quite the mystery, though; I look forward to finishing my business with both you two and that other pack of rats at a later date!"

The red-clad man tried to get back to solid ground as he snarled, "You're going to finish what you started, you mongrel!"

Ares realized the irony in the issuance of such an order: he leaned on the wall and retorted, "I think not. Alas, the tides of fate can shift on a whim, and have led to this game's time being up. I assure you, unless you're fond of feeling ultimate pain, you should pray this game of darkness never resumes!"

Ares' eyes glowed red; to the shock of his opponents, the terrain around him turned pitch-black, and he sank into the ground. His red-clad attacker tried to grab him, but, by the time they had extended their arms again, only rocks and rubble remained.

Realizing that Ares was out of their reach, Fatima slashed a few more magical rock-jaws in half, then slung his large weapon over his shoulder. Glancing around the area, he told his companion, "It's over, my brother; the wizard has gotten out of our reach. As conceited as he may have been, his mastery over mana is no falsehood; to leave like that proves he is very skilled in dark magic."

The man in red looked at the ground, kicking the rubble where Ares had been; he hissed hatefully, "That damned, slimy bastard—I nearly had his throat in my grasp! We came all this way for nothing—not only could we not secure the Dragon Helix Emerald, but we couldn't even capture the thief to learn where we might find it again!"

Fatima pointed out, "It is already the past, brother Amaranthine; dwelling on it now will do us no good. We can't linger here—being discovered by the soldiers is the last thing we need."

Amaranthine looked at the ground for a few seconds before nodding. As the blades on his hands retracted, he muttered, "…You're right, brother Fatima. I have to admit, that wizard was more cunning than I first thought. Still, what about the men he was chasing? Do you think he was lying about having the Dragon Helix Emerald, and that in reality those three hold it?"

Fatima glanced to his right. "I don't think that's the case; if he didn't have what he was after, he would not be so confident about retreating."

Amaranthine walked to the edge of the area, and glanced in the direction that Dan and Voltaire had run with the unconscious Richard before replying uneasily, "…Still, one of the scents around here feels noteworthy—it feels almost like us, but at the same time, it feels…different."

The taller of the duo suddenly swerved his head to the right, muttering, "I don't know—it could be a product of one of the militaries. The Jiodisan Union does have quite an obsession with acting like they are the heralds of dragons….

"In any case, we should ponder about it later; more soldiers are coming. We must return without being detected, and Chief Hariok needs to hear about all that's transpired."

Amaranthine balled his fists and retorted, determined, "This time we were too late—but next time, we shall make sure our ancestors aren't desecrated!"

His companion nodded. Both of them stood still for a moment before —with no arcane language, gestures, or wands— both abruptly shrank and deformed, their clothing absorbing into their skin. They continued to compress and twist, losing all their human features and gaining reptilian ones: oversized eyes, large, padded toes, long, thick tails…until there was nothing left but a pair of geckos. A moment later, both lizards scurried away.

---

This entire time, the two fleeing Ravens had only heard a few, distant noises, and, as Dan took note of this peaceful silence, he raised an eyebrow. "…So Ares flew the coop after all?"

Voltaire listened carefully before replying, "Either that, or he's trying to draw us out. We can't just stay here forever, though—for one thing, Requiem needs some serious healing; potions alone won't be enough to patch up the damage that Hell Tempest spell inflicted."

Dan Richard moan weakly, and looked over his shoulder. Seeing that his leader was still sizzling in places caused the blond-haired man to reply fiercely, "If there's no time to waste, then let's get going!"

Voltaire glanced around before adding, "As long as we stay close, the invisibility bubble should hold, and as long as we keep a steady pace we can get out of harm's way—hopefully, anyways.

"Frankly, though, while it's urgent to ensure we get our leader healed fast, there are other things to do, too, like make sure there that no one else ends up dead."

"One thing at a time, man; let's see if we can at least get out of this alive before we see if we can stop anything."

With one last glance back, the two men carefully made their way to the entrance of the Mausoleum. Sneaking towards the exit, they saw, and passed, a dozen Rakthian soldiers who were inspecting the dead bodies.

Thankfully, the soldiers weren't looking around with magic-detecting machinery yet; at one point Voltaire stumbled over a rock, but Dan was able to hold him up, and they soon managed to get out safely.

---

Despite all, the Humanity Unity Summit itself had proceeded without incident thus far. The conversation between Nathan and Trevelyan might have been rather chilly, but it was also off-the-record, which was fortunate.

After the dessert had been eaten, it was time for the real 'meat and potatoes': the actual summit. The room that had once been the fort's command chamber had been furnished and supplied with sound dampeners and other security devices, both technological and magical, to ensure all would remain private. Each of the three sides took their best warriors with them into the chamber.

Now they sat at a circular table in the middle of the room: Prime Minister Nathan, Princess Natalie, General Trevelyan, and Empress Setsuko—the last with Kaolin nearby, supposedly acting as her voice. The Empress honestly might as well have not been there.

At first, it went well. A few concessions were made: getting Rakthian and Jiodisan forces to pull out of key territories in exchange for relocation of several Aurino missile platforms and fleets.

There was also talk of prisoner exchanges—suspected spies, political prisoners, and the like. There was a bit of disagreement over which prisoner was worth how much, but that discussion ended fairly well too.

Unfortunately, that was as far as it went. There were more important matters that didn't get resolved—the permitted uses of certain previously-private Kaisonite mines were one; another was the sharing of scientific breakthroughs. Still another was a forming global accord on the rights of minorities—no budging was allowed by either Rakthia or the Jiodisa there.

Nathan realized that it was mostly as they had all feared at about that point—if they couldn't even get through these problems, there was no hope for anything more monumental. The concessions that had been made could have been handled by diplomats over transmitters.

He was in the midst of one final push when it was decided for them all that they had better wrap this up and go home early. "…I would think at the bare minimum we could agree on certain inalienable rights for minorities on a global scale, such as equal representation in—"

The door suddenly buzzed; everyone looked, wondering what was important enough to interrupt the summit. A moment later, one of Ian's men moved to the door and unlocked it, stepping outside for a moment; he was obviously checking someone for weapons.

Once the search was completed, the soldier stepped inside and let another man enter, who quickly went to Trevelyan. Once there, he quickly snapped a hasty salute to Ian, leaned down, and whispered into his commander's ear.

Ian inclined his head to the messenger and said nothing for a few seconds; his eyes then widened in shock and fury. He glared at the man and berated them in Rakthian, which Nathan translated as, "Why didn't you tell me this earlier, Tibrit!?" He then quickly added something more in a quieter, but still furious, voice, before turning back to the table. Quite tense now, he rapidly rose from his seat.

"Princess Natalie, Empress Setsuko, Lord Zilos, I'm afraid all negotiations will have to be put on hold."

Now everyone on all three sides tensed a bit. Nathan looked up and stroked his beard. "…Just what do you mean, General?"

Ian was already reaching into his uniform for his personal portable computer and pulling it out. He turned it on, only to groan and, speaking in Rakthian, order one of his men to disable the room's jammer.

As the soldier moved to do so, he explained, "During this conference, a number of my men were attacked and killed by mysterious assailants. The attackers were well-prepared, and jammed transmissions from both the garrison and the Mausoleum. They've been that way for an hour."

Gifford, one of the Magna Centurions that had been allowed into the chamber to guard the princess and prime minister, tensed upon hearing this. "Who are these attackers? —Terrorists? —Saboteurs? What have they done?"

Trevelyan's teeth clenched as he looked at the computer screen. "…All I know right now is that many Rakthian citizens are dead, several Grizanaughts in the garrison were destroyed, and the Mausoleum has been raided—all right under my own nose." He then muttered a bloodthirsty oath in Rakthian, seething at the thought.

Nathan paused, thinking of Richard…and, more importantly, the Ibis Corps. The Mausoleum had been mentioned….

"If there's anything we can do to help, my men are at your disposal."

The empress touched her mask. "Yes, and the same goes for my own. To attack on a sacred day is inexcusable."

The general seemed less than appreciative; he practically ignored them as he walked around the table, headed for the door. "Your offers are appreciated but unnecessary. Crimes committed on Rakthian soil will be looked at by Rakthian investigators. This entire city is now on high alert; I recommend you all wait here until the situation is resolved."

Without another word, only a gesture to one side, Trevelyan exited the room. His men quickly fell in behind him and marched out, emptying the chamber of all Rakthian soldiers, save for the two door guards. In no time at all, only two nations were still represented, with both of their warriors looking uncertainly at one another.

Nathan paused only long enough to let the silence hang a bit. It wasn't in his nature to sit around on his duff at times like this, especially not when he had an idea who was concerned. Perhaps he had to remain, but he still had options available to him. He looked to one side and gestured.

"Gifford, I think it'd be best you check with the Geminis on how things are around here. I don't want this day to end on a sour note."

The armored man nodded. "As you wish, Lord Zilos. However…with how the situation presently is, I think it's best if we have you and the princess under close watch until the danger passes."

Nathan looked up slightly: Natalie was sitting rather uncomfortably and glancing at the windows. The old man merely smiled. "Oh, don't worry about that." He inclined his head to her. "No matter what force attacked here, it wouldn't be enough to get through to us."

Natalie merely frowned as she rose to her feet, clearly to get her legs working properly. "Even so, I worry what this is going to do to the relations between the nations. It doesn't matter who attacked the soldiers; in the end, it'll be Aurino's fault."

"Now, we can't just assume things, Natalie. If we start doing that, we have absolutely no hope at peaceful relations." Nathan inhaled a bit as he put his hands on his chair's armrests and pushed himself up. "Our only concern right now should be if we can find the ones responsible for the attack. If we do so, it will do wonders for our situation. On that note, I think I'll check in with our captains."

The old man reached for his own transmitter and quickly tapped it to light it up. It was currently showing an incoming transmission request: Jade Hawk.

"Oh, speak of the devil," he muttered idly. "He beat me to it. —Classified channel, too. Will people never learn…." He sighed as he turned and made his way could to one side of the room, looking as casual as he could.

Luckily, this chamber was so old-fashioned that it had numerous antechambers along the sides; they made nice little booths for him to step into for privacy; he quickly moved into one. After making sure no one was looking, he turned back to the transmitter and answered it.

"Voltaire, is that you?" he whispered harshly. "What the devil is going on out there?"

"Let's just say today was full of surprises, and all of them were pretty much the worst kind," a weak, panting voice answered. "We just barely managed to get out undetected, and without some luck, we would have never left at all. I have to be quick about this; things are in a rather dire state.

"First of all, the Dragon Helix Emerald has been stolen. The man responsible for committing the act of thievery was nearly taken down, but that's when it all went downhill.

"Alec is apparently his superior—because Alec Steel is also Ares, the leader of the Ibis Corps. He showed his true face after our silver-faced leader trounced the first attacker, one of the Jinn Cadre. We learned the hard way how powerful he was, and the leader of your special unit was critically wounded. If he doesn't get medical attention soon, his wounds might become fatal.

"We managed to escape, but I don't know if Ares actually retreated or is plotting something else. Sorry we were able to accomplish so little; we weren't prepared for the sheer power that the leader of the Ibis Corps commands. I hate to say it, but his title of the God of War may be justified—our leader tried to take him down, and the results were utterly devastating."

On hearing that, Nathan's face lost a bit of color. It was a good thing his back was to the room; there was no way he could have explained that away. "How bad?"

"He could die pretty damn soon."

Now the prime minister truly did blanch. He quickly stroked his beard and took in a few deep breaths. He couldn't lose it now; the Rakthians were out looking for those responsible. If he leaked anything at this point, it would be more than his nephew's head on the block.

"Get him to the hotel room as soon as possible; I'll get aid there, one way or another."

"Of course. Just one other thing: if I were you, I'd make sure none of your Magna Centurions run into this guy, unless you've got some pine boxes ready. He's a genocidal type, and, seeing as he has one of those Dragon Helix Emeralds, we're all in a fix now."

The man sighed heavily. "…Your concern is noted, but right now I'd settle for knowing where he is. It's not in my nature to cower in terror. Just—"

"Wait, hold on a second!" A woman's voice suddenly cut in, causing Nathan to snap back in alarm. "I found something!"

Nathan blinked a few times, steadying himself. "…Who is this?"

"Um…" Voltaire answered uneasily, "…that would be our tech specialist from Rycroft."

"…And she hacked into the classified network on my transmitter?"

"Don't act like it was so hard," the girl answered. "Forget about that for now, though. After Requiem sliced and diced the Grizanaughts piloted by those Rakthian sellouts, he wanted me to check if any of the pilots had anything that looked fishy, and I've found something that sure smells like rotten salt. One of them had some deploy times—not for Rakthia, but for Aurino. One of the Zaitrons you deployed is different from all the others."

Nathan was still a bit taken aback from the security breach, but he forgot about that quickly; this was even more important. A rogue Zaitron…. Not even a Magna Centurion could take that out before it got off a few shots; maybe even not at all, depending on the pilots. He glanced to the window and grimaced: there were half a dozen of them flying around now. None of them stood out.

"Do you have a name, my dear?"

"Leave off the 'my dear'; you sound like a dirty old pervert, saying that. —And sorry, but no—all it says is one has been launched at irregular times twice since the summit began. The only other thing I can point out is that one of our guys was asked to be substitute co-pilot, if you can believe it…but there's no way to tell on which one, at least not quickly; these tracking numbers mean nothing to me."

Nathan made a fist. This was getting worse very quickly. Until now, he had thought that the Ibis Corps were more or less their own self-contained PMC that got whatever corruption they could whenever they could; he hadn't known they were so connected that they could taint a pilot at a summit.

There was little time to waste now. "I could ask the generals to give me a full list of all of their men's activities, but I don't think we have enough time for that to help us; this'll have to be solved the old-fashioned way. Don't worry—I've got it. Just focus on getting your comrade to the hotel."

"Understood, Lord Zilos. Claire, we'll be returning soon."

A mechanical voice suddenly joined in. "Master Claire, it would be wise if you hurried and got dressed. Being in your current state might cause unneeded distractions."

Voltaire instantly reacted, perplexed, "What the…are you naked?"

"What, are you my mother, Al!? Shut up! Where's the towel…?"

Nathan turned off the transmitter with a grimace. "…Special forces, indeed…" he muttered quietly to himself. Quickly, he put it away and turned back to the room. That was too much; he was lucky no one had seen him, as shaken up as he was from hearing the news. He needed to get somewhere with a bit clearer of a transmission. He hoped he looked calm as he walked out.

He didn't: Natalie quirked her brow. "…Uncle? What's wrong?"

"Oh, just the usual—trying to figure out how to get on top of a mess," he managed a forced grin as he walked by. He left it on all the way to the balcony.

On stepping out, his face quickly grew more serious as he pulled out the transmitter and patched in his general aboard the Mjolnir. Even as he did, he found his eyes drifting skyward, looking at each ship as it flew around, studying them for something out-of-place.

It seemed to take forever to get an answer, and while he was waiting, he saw, a bit to his unease, that Gifford was not only looking at him, but advancing. Natalie hadn't looked away either.

The transmission had finally gotten through; he held the mic up to his mouth and spoke. "General, I want you to immediately order all Zaitron units currently in the air to land in a circle formation at the edge of the town, facing inwards. Then you are to call each pilot out individually from their cockpits and have them prove their identity, one by one. Do it now."

Unfortunately, his privacy hadn't held: Gifford was behind him, obviously having overheard some of this. Natalie looked tense as she neared as well.

"Lord Zilos, what is the purpose of this? Is it wise to put our men in a weakened position, right in front of the Rakthian Air Force?"

Clearing his throat a bit and trying to sound as calm as possible, the prime minister waved his hand. "Not a problem; the Surge Zeppelins will still be in a position to counterattack in the event of assault. Trust me, this is necessary."

It was taking all his composure right now to keep himself together, but Natalie seemed to have realized that his eyes, at least, were rather impassioned: he was clearly committed to this plan. Knowing that, she nodded and said nothing. Gifford reluctantly eased as well. That was a relief to the prime minister, because he was having a hard time focusing now.

Richard…dying like this would be even more tragic than how everyone assumes you died. I pray it's not too late, for you and for us.

---

Well, this certainly turned to sucking in a hurry….

Zach was pulling a bit nervously at the collar of his flight suit. A moment ago, he had been relishing his flight over the city and ride aboard a real, fully-loaded Zaitron. Then they had suddenly received an order from the Commanding Officer to land, along with every other Zaitron. He couldn't even risk contacting the other Crimson Tengu Ravens about it; one could hear a fly sneeze in that cockpit. Again he tried to play it cool.

"So, what's the deal, man? —Seems like an odd time for a drill."

"No drill, techie," the pilot answered as he continued to lower the craft, already powering down some systems. "Direct order from Lord Zilos. Sorry your run got cut short, but orders are orders. I'm getting word that some of the Rakthian bases got their transmissions jammed and no one noticed; I'd guess they're dotting their 'i's and crossing their 't's, making sure we haven't been compromised or something. Just following orders will solve things a lot quicker than making a fuss. Relax; they already know you're with me instead of my standard gunner.

That's not what I'm afraid of! Zach thought nervously. What if they do a background check and something smells rotten?

Zach's stomach dropped as he felt the Zaitron pitching around to land. He could only stare at the screen as he listened to the engines cooling down. Slowly, the Zaitron moved over to where the others were rapidly gathering, and moved itself into the circle with the rest.

He nearly trembled when he heard the massive hiss and saw the chest plate split open, exposing him to the cool, dry air and the light of the searchlights looking down around them. He was petrified, feeling like he was under an interrogator's spotlight.

It wasn't until the cockpit had already rolled out and Victor had finished powering down and begun removing his helmet that Zach managed to override his own fear and attempt to play it cool. "So, uh…this is a rat hunt, eh?"

"Like I said, just making sure everyone is who they're supposed to be."

"Heh…hope I don't get shot." Zach tried to make that sound like a joke, but he wasn't sure if it came off as anything less than dead-serious.

"I told you, no crime in being a substitute, as long as you got the okay from me," the captain casually answered. "Must be a stupid infiltrator, though—any spy caught on international ground gets shot."

Zach made the weakest smile of his life as he began to wonder if the dream he'd had a few weeks ago about dying in a Zaitron had been a premonition.

"Man up already, techie," Allston said, standing up and patting Zach's seat. "It's our turn."

At once, Zach's mind turned to mush as he desperately tried to remember everything that was on that packet of information he had been passed by Requiem. Somehow, though, through all of it, he managed to rise to his feet.

He was glad he didn't have to walk out of the cockpit; if he had, he likely would have fainted. Just standing up made him light-headed. What made things even worse was that he didn't even see anyone interrogating them directly: a spotlight just turned on, and instantly blinded both of them. Although the bulb was far from either of them, he felt plenty of heat under it…

The captain quickly gave a salute as he pulled his helmet off the rest of the way. "Captain Victor Allston, Blitz Bolt Squadron Leader."

Zach stood still for a moment before it clicked that he was supposed to say something. He took a deep breath. "Christopher Dorian, Reserve Mechanic." He paused, then quickly added, in a half-stammer, "Currently acting as Stand-In Gunner, with permission."

The light couldn't have been on him for more than another second, but it felt like an eternity before it shifted off of him. Zach felt like an elephant had gotten off his chest, not realizing his fate had never been in any doubt.

Even if his ID hadn't been flawless, the prime minister was the one conducting the inquiry, and already had advance notice that one of Requiem's group had switched in. Even so, he could hardly hide the fact he slumped back into his seat.

Victor chuckled and shook his head. "…Told you there was nothing to worry about, techie."

Zach exhaled nonetheless, wiping his brow. "Heh…. Man, that was not the kind of tension I thought I'd have my first time on a Zaitron. Wouldn't that have been something though, eh? Guy gets wasted on a Zaitron without even closing the…." he trailed off.

The spotlight had already moved to the next Zaitron. It was also a Jupiter-Class, and this one had been flying with its Galva plasma rifle already out and active. It was pointed to the ground, just as it should be…but he saw, in the glare of the spotlight covering all of them, other lights were coming on within the venting chambers of the weapon. The air was rippling slightly around the barrel.

He heard the hiss of the hydraulics in the arm servos…before the weapon suddenly swung up and snapped the barrel to aim at the banquet hall.

Zach's eyes widened as he realized what was just a few moments from happening.

"Look out!"

Something odd happened while he was screaming out the warning. He wasn't sure, later, if his mind had processed yet that the search had never been about him, but over a genuine traitor with darker purposes; he doubted it. He did know he had still been working on shaking off the belief that he was about to be executed.

…Yet, somehow, in spite of the multitude of pressures and tensions that were on him, he saw a rogue unit about to fire…and, through either an act of fate or some newly-learned muscle memory, he saw the simulator again; he saw a digital hostile raising its Galva Plasma rifle to fire. He saw the same controls he had learned back in the small shipboard chamber, and he acted.

Almost of their own accord, his hands went out and manipulated the shoulder turrets; in a heartbeat, the screen with their targeting reticles had swiveled and aimed the crosshairs right at the Galva plasma rifle, which in the same instant had begun to glow brightly, ready to shoot. Immediately, he smashed the trigger buttons.

Twin streams of green plasma erupted from Allston's Jupiter's shoulder turrets. From this point-blank range, there was no chance of missing, or the rogue pilot of its sister unit ever reacting.

The energy projectiles collided into the weapon and instantly pierced its housing. In a moment the world vanished around Zach as heat slapped him in the face, the end result of the weapon going up in a white-hot blast.

He immediately realized why these cockpits had to be so well enclosed and armored, seeing as even low-power shots at this range could easily cut off one's head with shrapnel. The explosion was deafening, and his ears were ringing as his other senses went for a loop—but he somehow hadn't been hit by any of the many metal scraps that had been launched at lethal speeds by the blast.

He barely realized what he had just done; what he had to have done. He had no idea if he'd hit in time, or how he had managed to, if so. He merely shrank back and let the blast die down. Soon, the explosion and ringing gave rise to the sound of burning and the smell of plasma vulcanizing metal. He winced a bit, and cracked his eyes open.

The barrel of a plasma pistol was seated right above his eyes; it was held in Captain Allston's hand. In an instant, the pilot had snapped over out of his seat, straddled Zach's, and aimed it right at his forehead.

Zach panicked. "They were about to shoot the summit, I swear to god! I saw his gun charging!"

Victor stared at Zach coldly for a moment, ignoring the blood trickling from a small cut on his cheekbone, then glanced to the side.

The other Jupiter was burning, and the arm and rifle had been vaporized; so had a good portion of the right side. The only reason the entire mech hadn't been blown away was because it was one of the "tanks" of the group, and was built specifically to still be standing even after this level of damage.

The captain thought a moment longer, then hissed as he released the primer on his gun and put it away. "Sons of bitches," he cursed, "even a lucky plasma turret shot would only dislocate the arm; only way you'd do that much damage is if you struck the weapon just as it was about to fire. Boomhauer, Peggy, you sons of bitches…."

Zach felt a measure of relief as once again he was believed. The captain took a deep breath, still staring at the machine, before patting the top of Zach's console. "…That's fast thinking, techie. Even from this close, it's damn hard to snap off a turret shot at this close range and hit it right at that mom—"

The man was cut off as the cockpit of the burning Zaitron suddenly retracted—at least, as best as it could in its condition. A moment later, the sounds of its thrusters igniting could be heard, and the entire orbital frame began to unsteadily rise into the air.

"Damn it, they're trying to self-destruct!" the captain suddenly shouted, quickly vaulting back over Zach and to his own seat, snatching up his helmet, and screaming into the mic, "What are you waiting for!? Shut them down!"

The orders were almost unnecessary; the other pilots had scarcely heard the thrusters ignite before they rapidly reentered their own cockpits and fired up their own engines even faster. By the time the rogue Jupiter managed to get into the air, a blue Mercury was already moving ahead of the rogue vehicle. Built for fast takeoffs and general speed, in an instant it was in the air and actually above the Jupiter.

The pilot of the crippled mech kicked their engines up a notch as the Mercury deployed its arm-mounted plasma repeater, peppering said engines with plasma. Many holes promptly appeared throughout the system, and the leaking fuel ignited, blasting out the side before the engines were cut off by the built-in safety mechanisms, causing the machine to lurch to one side and off course.

This gave the others just enough time for a Mars Zaitron to take to the air, deploying its own weapon: a two-handed, plasma-laced sword called an "Atom Divider"—an appropriate title, as the edge was nothing more than concentrated electrons that could literally split atoms. It flashed as its wielder rushed up to meet the incoming mech and swiped as it came into range.

In an instant, the rogue machine's head and upper torso were separated from its body, and, with them, the majority of its remaining systems. The thrusters died out, the cannons idled, and the remains of the orbital frame crashed back to the ground —a mere hundred feet from the edge of the summit grounds— with a heavy thud that shook the area.

The finishing stroke was delivered by the Mjolnir itself, which aimed a side-mounted cannon at the fallen Jupiter. The cannon's barrel reared back for a moment, making a sizzling noise, before it fired a purple orb that seemed to hold an electrical cloud around it: the distinctive look of a blast from an ionization cannon, packed with electromagnetic energy to disable enemy computers and machines.

Jupiters were normally insulated and shielded against such an attack, but Zach's opening shots had ruined this one's shield generators; that had also been how the other Zaitrons had damaged it so easily. On being struck by the round, anything that was still functional rapidly shorted out. Nothing was left but a hunk of inert metal, except possibly the crew.

…Certainly doesn't get much closer than that; good to know I'm not going senile….

—That was all Nathan could think as he watched the remains of the rogue Zaitron settle (he had a rather good view from his balcony, after all). The remaining Zaitrons that had not yet reactivated quickly did so, while the ones that had finished the craft off moved in, weapons still trained on it.

He took a moment to compose himself. Good at magic as he was, that was still more than too-close-for-comfort; it seemed likely to him that the pilot had even tried to crash the orbital frame into the summit building.

Apparently, the rest of the hall was doing the same…but after a time, the silence was broken.

"…What in the world were they thinking?" Natalie suddenly burst out. "How dare he disgrace our nation with this…this…this terrorism!?"

"He'll pay for his crimes in due time. The important thing now is that he was stopped before it was too late." Nathan looked behind him. "Gifford, I'm entrusting you personally—I want that pilot interrogated firmly but swiftly. I'm not about to hand him to a Rakthian interrogator before we know anything he's got, understood?"

Gifford gave a swift nod. He turned and nearly walked out, clearly meaning to head out right now and begin that interrogation…when he paused, looking at the sky outside.

Nathan noticed this. "What's the matter?"

"That Saker Grizanaught squadron looks a little close…."

---

By now, their cockpit was closed up again, Allston's cut had stopped bleeding, and Zach's tension over what had just happened was slowly fading; awe from the fact that he had just witnessed real Zaitrons in action right in front of him was beginning to overwhelm it. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride, now that the moment had passed. He had actually pulled off that shot….

Victor, however, was fully focused on the main camera, and it was directed right at the fallen hunk of machinery. He was moving their Jupiter Zaitron forward, deploying his own weapons as a further precaution.

He let out another curse as he ran his hand through his hair. "Damn it. How could anyone in my squadron be so damn gutless? How the hell did they even get this far, when we've got that huge weeding-out program?"

As he said this, Zach glanced to the other cameras, meaning to move their turrets back into place. He had barely put a hand on their controls when he spotted something else, though. One of the turrets was aimed at the sky behind them, and its targeting camera was revealing something new; Zach recognized them as Saker Fighter TXM Grizanaughts. Unlike the bear-like mainstays of the Rakthian Army, these were designed specifically for flight—more than obvious, considering they resembled great, heavily-armed, black-grey-and-brown metal birds.

Each one was thirteen meters long and eleven meters wide—rather impressive, compared to most other war machines, and clearly designed to instill terror through appearance, as all Ratkhian crafts were. These, however, could actually back up some of their looks to boot.

Zach had also noticed they were inbound.

"…Maybe he was a really good weed, then—but no matter what that guy's problem was, sir," he spoke up, pointing to the monitor, "I'm kind of wondering what their problem is."

Victor looked up to the monitors at that; his eyebrows promptly rose. "…What the hell are they thinking? They don't back off soon…" he trailed off, his eyes widening as he seemed to realize what had to be happening. "…Oh, hell." Immediately, his hands flew out to the controls as he shouted out rapidly, "Swarming hostiles inbound! Everyone, gear up; swat them down!"

Zach hardly had time to realize what was going on before he heard a violent humming: the sound of the engines on their Jupiter roaring to life. It couldn't rise as fast as its brethren, but all the captain cared about was getting it into the air.

As their monitors swiveled around, Zach saw a flurry of confusion in the takeoffs below; the lighter mechs immediately rose into the air and deployed weapons.

The people at the summit building cried out and began to scatter, including the Rakthian guards still deployed there. All that vanished from Zach's mind as soon the Zaitron was fully orientated toward the inbound Grizanaughts, though…just as he saw one of them launch two massive rockets.

Both flurried into life and shot a distance out and away from the aircraft, before, with a snap and a pop, they split into two dozen smaller clustered missiles, each one rapidly gaining speed and headed right for the summit.

The young man nearly gasped at the sight—only "nearly" because his breath caught in his throat as the Zaitron cockpit around him began to move. Quickly lapsing into "active mode", Victor's hands flew over the controls and rapidly went to work.

Even with their machine's main engines still warming up, Allston got it maneuvering by pushing the aiming and stabilizing thrusters, shooting them higher into the air and into the path of the incoming rockets.

Zach hardly had time to process the image before him as the results of Victor's movements rapidly flowed over it, displaying lightning-fast calculations of the path of the incoming rockets and preparing a countermeasure.

A moment later, he overrode some of Zach's controls and snapped up the larger, more powerful, shoulder-mounted Galva turrets. Readjusting them, he let them warm up only a moment before erupting with such a blast that Zach felt his stomach plunge again from the recoil.

The shots were so large they seemed to blend together into one massive beam with a diameter the size of their Zaitron's height, and quickly swept through the distance to the clustered missiles. In an instant, each of the latter had vanished into the purple beam and produced a little blast of light, detonating long before reaching their target.

As the light cleared, Zach saw it had done a bit more than that: the blast had gone right on to vaporize the leftmost Saker's wing. As that one pitched uncontrollably to one side and began to go down, the others, realizing there was someone defending the area, quickly scattered.

With his machine now fully readied, Victor punched the throttle. "Delta Formation!" he shouted into his helmet mic.

Zach got his answer as to what that meant a moment later, when the Mars Zaitron from earlier paused and hissed, its armored form breaking open and shifting at the shoulder and hip joints.

As the limbs went rigid and locked together, the sides unfurled interlocking panels of metal and rapidly changed its silhouette, turning it from a humanoid machine to a fighter-jet-like one. It gave a thunderous roar a moment later as its engines kicked in, and with vastly increased speed it took off for the nearest Saker.

The Saker tried to intercept, of course; its twin frontal plasma cannons began to unleash repeating blasts of their own, lighting up the sky with flashing strobes in perfect rays. It did no good, however: the Mars was already swerving to one side by the time it opened fire, and then doubled its speed as a pillar of raw, focused energy shot out of part of its starboard hull.

The enemy continued to fire, but their cannons weren't fast enough to reposition before the ship had reached it and shot right past. Zach saw a spurt of mechanical parts erupt from the Rakthian war machine like entrails when the Mars rocketed by, but only for a moment, since the enemy ship then exploded in a ball of fire.

While it was going down, another Saker had quickly used the opportunity to come around and sweep in from behind, and was taking the opportunity to train its own guns and get the advantage over the Mars Zaitron.

This rogue, too, never had a chance. While they were still locking on, the jet-like Aurino aircraft stalled in midair and shifted back into its humanoid form in an instant. The Saker Grizanaught's pilot fired too late: the Mars had enough time to swing around and deploy its arm-mounted shield, which intercepted every shot. Then, before the Saker could evade or correct course, the Mars snapped its legs up and aimed them at the hostile, firing off at full power. The bird-like war machine was caught by the sudden draft from the thrusters, and was flipped into a stall position.

Not wasting any time, the shield arm of the Zaitron snapped back in and it pulled out its Atom Divider from before, and in a single movement it both swung its legs down to shoot forward and sliced with the blade. In an instant, the front of the other machine flew off, and the rest of it tumbled to the ground to join the other two.

The number of attackers rapidly dwindling, a fourth unit moved around to assault the Mars. Unlike the others before it, this was one was slightly yet clearly larger, an indication that it was likely a more specialized craft than the previous ones.

Similar to the Jupiter, rather than firing off independently with both shots, it had moved both of its main cannons together and begin to charge them, preparing for a concentrated, higher-power blast.

Just as the pilot of this larger Saker saw the Mars inadvertently creating an opening by withdrawing its shield in favor of its saber and fired, the Mercury darted into its path.

Unarmed, the smaller and weaker machine would have had taken serious damage, but its pilot had deployed one of the general-use Zaitron accessories the Mjolnir carried —a relatively small shield generator resembling a giant buckler— and put it right in the way of the blast.

The shot possessed enough impact to smack the Mercury back slightly, even through the shield, but that was all. As the shockwaves died down, the smaller mech fired its thrusters back up and began to shoot for the larger one again.

This Saker didn't counter with conventional firepower, however; rather, the talon-like gun turrets it had on the aft end of its belly suddenly gave hisses and crackles as all eight of them snapped loose from the hull.

They didn't turn into rockets or missiles of any sort, though. Each one used micro-thrusters of its own while remaining tethered to the main body of the ship by long cables, and began to snake out for the incoming Mercury.

The pilot actually stopped in mid-air momentarily as the talons rapidly spread apart, forming a sort of net, and then began to fire one after another at the target.

Fortunately, the Grizanaught's pilot had underestimated both the skill of his opposition as well as the abilities of their machine. Where he'd hoped to overwhelm the Zaitron into making a mistake or being trapped by the cords, the mech simply ignited its thrusters and took off in a blur.

The opposing fighter seemed to go rigid as it noticed the Mercury move so fast it was practically a blur…nothing more than a trace of color in the sky. The turrets were all firing lasers —not good at all for piercing armor, but this was a Mercury Zaitron, not a Jupiter— and yet somehow the ship was not only dodging each and every shot, but the pilot on board was reacting fast enough to see each of them coming and still plan ahead.

Suddenly, the stalemate broke. The Mercury's own rear section popped open and sent out scattering missiles, firing off like a cloud into the midst of the wires and at the opposing Saker.

At once, the Rakthian pilot aimed their main cannons as well as their cabled ones and fired back, unloading a stream of firepower into the incoming weapons and quickly putting power into their thrusters to dodge any missiles that got through.

It was only after they were almost gone the pilot realized their mistake. These weapons were scattered wildly, and contained special concussive warheads designed for cutting; their goal had never been to hit the Saker, but to cut up the cables, shoot the drones down, and leave the pilot distracted with his machine wide open.

The rogue pilot only had just enough time to see the still-moving Mercury snap its shoulder-mounted Galva rifle out and fire a single shot into the heart of the Grizanaught before he vanished into fire, shrapnel, and smoke along with the his war machine.

There was only one Saker left at this point. By now, that last pilot had realized there was no chance of fending off the superior —and by now far more numerous— Zaitrons, so it had done the only thing it could: used its allies' interference as a distraction and slip through. It bolted right for the summit, prepared to unload everything it had on it in a kamikaze assault while it was fully in the clear.

—Only it wasn't fully in the clear.

By now, two of the attending Magna Centurions had moved to the banister on the seemingly unprotected flank of the building: Michael and Michelle. On seeing the heavily-armed ship bearing down, ready to fire at any moment, both of them merely smiled, not showing the least bit of fear or tension.

They both took off running right for it, or at least the closest approximation possible without flying. Michael drew his golden tri-blades while Michelle drew a sturdier-looking red-and-magenta sword. Zach wasn't anywhere near close enough to hear, but if he had been, he would have caught a touch of banter in their voices as they discussed their tactics.

"What do you think, Sis? —Gemini Dive enough to flatten this daredevil?"

"Speed is of the essence, Michael—a Mirage Cyclone is more appropriate."

"Hmm…all right, sounds good."

Both Magna Centurions chanted at the same time, their wands not only bursting with light but seeming to resonate perfectly with one another, as if their mana flows were on the same wavelength. In a burst, both individuals vanished into an explosion of bright light. When it cleared, the Saker had a rather stiff shock: there were dozens of copies of the Magna Centurions confronting him, and all of them began to run forward as one.

The deception worked: the pilot instantly fired wildly and prematurely, hoping to get lucky and hit one, or at least drive the real ones out of the way—and, in doing so, he completely forgot to attack the summit building.

The illusions were just as swift as the real warriors, each one of them dodging and ducking…but even when his shots hit one or another of them, it invariably ended up being an illusion; the image simply vanished. By the time the pilot gave up and tried to fire on the building, it was too late.

His vision was suddenly blinded by two golden streaks of light traveling across the nose of the craft. He reared back and stared at this new phenomenon, and realized that it wasn't any form of energy attack or weapon, but the two true twins. Their auras had erupted into such power that not only had they been able to make the impossible jump hundreds of feet into the air to position themselves above him, but were wrapped in golden energy, gleaming like an Aura Edge empowered with copious amounts of mana.

He only had a moment to process this before the two pillars came together, and those making it up twisted their bodies and held out their arms and legs at angles, forming a golden "X" symbol which immediately descended into the approaching aircraft.

Could one have slowed down time to a crawl, for a moment they would have seen the "X" slicing through the ship with no resistance whatsoever, leaving only four flawless pieces behind. In the next instant, however, the raw energy ignited the fuel cells, and the last rogue mech erupted into flames.

With the final one gone, Zach gave a whistle at the display. Requiem wasn't kidding about the Magna Centurions; he doubted even a Jupiter Zaitron would have a chance against that. Victor continued to use the cameras to look around—after all, they were still surrounded by a large number of potential hostiles.

"No other Rakthians are joining in, including the battleships; they're just idling. Squadrons are standing by…." he remarked after a moment, musing a bit as he looked over the readouts.

Zach turned his head. "…So, that was just a bunch of rogues?"

"…Wouldn't make much sense to blow up their own men along with ours, though…. I guess we'll find out soon enough. At any rate, we're on high alert, and we're staying that way. Sorry—looks like I lied about this being a fun run." He chuckled, looking up at the younger man. "Still, kid, I am impressed. After only a day in the simulators, you pulled off a quick draw shot like that? You got potential—in fact, I think you might go ace one day, if you live long enough to get there."

In spite of the roller coaster of emotions Zach had just been on, being praised again swelled the former gangster's head right back up again. This wasn't a joke; this was an actual Aurino ace telling him he could be one of the best. He hoped, more than ever, that somehow they could get one of these machines to work with….

"Heh…. Thanks, Captain; I'll definitely aim for 'ace' over 'dying'…."

---

Now Nathan really wished he'd had more to drink. The Grizanaughts that had crashed were burning, and now being joined by the pieces of the one the Gemini twins had just cut down.

The panic was widespread; even with the attacks over, the Jiodisans were surrounding their Empress like a living shield, and everyone outside was either barking orders or running in alarm. A few townspeople that had been too close to the area were actually screaming.

…And here I thought I could get away with some pleasantries, no real progress, and a glass of fine wine…silly me.

Natalie was nearly apoplectic, losing any semblance of grace or propriety as she pointed accusingly at the wreckage.

"What the hell is going on!? Why in the world is there a burning Grizanaught here!? What is the Rakthian Air Force thinking!?"

"I very much doubt this was General Trevelyan's doing," Nathan said, then slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. "This is interesting: first one of our Zaitrons…then a squadron of Grizanaughts…. The only thing left is—"

Nathan was cut off by a shrill cry, one that was horrendous, resounding, and vaguely bird-like. He looked for the source, and saw something was still flying towards the summit, and had managed to reach it: one of the Zoloactyls that had escorted the Jiodisans.

The giant creature was screaming its head off as it slapped its body against the side of the building, digging in with its long talons. It began to hiss and spit, flailing its head with great fervor. It then spun around and rapidly scaled down the wall, headed right for the prime minister; its mouth opened wide as it cried again.

"Speak of the devil…" Nathan said to himself in spite of the terror of the situation.

The prime minister didn't have time to comment further before, as the monster dove at him, Gifford shot out and slammed into the beast. Any normal human would have looked rather foolish doing this, but the armored Magna Centurion treated it as if it was nothing more than any other assailant, snatching it right out of the air, dragging it off the balcony with his weight and momentum, descending two stories, and slamming into the ground with his body on top, pinning it down.

The monster naturally didn't take this well; its massive wings, no doubt strong enough to break a man's spine, flapped furiously as it lashed out in a vague attempt to get free. It roared hoarsely, the wind knocked out of it.

As savage and dangerous as it was, though, Gifford remained cool and focused. His hand flew out and slammed its throat, keeping it from biting. He looked it in the eyes and immediately began to recite a calming mantra, clearly trying to get the creature to relax.

Being a bio-engineered organism, such a task should have been simple; it had to have enough intelligence and obedience to follow commands, after all. Yet the thing only continued to hiss and spit, growing more and more furious.

Seeing he was getting nowhere with the reptilian creature, and that it was starting to squirm free, Gifford sighed and yanked out his combination mace and ax. With a blow large enough to send an echo all the way back in the chamber, he slammed the beast in one temple with the blunt side. The Zoloactyl instantly went limp; it continued to breathe, but it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Sighing, Gifford replaced his weapon and rose off of the beast, turning his head skyward. Nathan's heart was racing a bit, but calming quickly, and both he and Natalie were looking to the Magna Centurion, who gestured. "It seemed to be dazed, as if it had a headache, or was sick. I think something was driving it mad."

Nathan heard footsteps nearby. He looked up, and saw Setsuko herself was approaching now, still tightly surrounded by her entourage. The mask tilted towards the ground below. "…This is impossible," she stated. "—All of our creatures are trained as well as humanly possible, and each Zoloactyl was inspected by our veterinarians before being approved. How in the world could it have lost its mind, especially now, of all the times?"

"Where in the blazes is the rider!?" Kaolin threw in, looking down past Gifford, who was scaling the wall to return his post, and glaring at the unconscious bio-monster. "No Sepoy Dragoon would be so sloppy as to lose control of their mount!"

Another noise cut the group off, but this time it was far more recognizable: it was the sound of a door slamming as it was flung open. The gathering immediately looked up and behind them to the balcony entrance, just in time to see a rather furious-looking General Trevelyan storm in with a number of his men following behind.

While the troops remained calm and disciplined enough, the general looked like his blood vessels were about to explode. He didn't bother closing the door behind him this time; he simply turned and glared at Nathan.

"Prime Minister Zilos," he growled, "what is the meaning of this!? —Are you and your family trying to incite a war, or humiliate us with a power play? First you try to fire on the summit, and then you shoot apart one of our squadrons!?"

In spite of the raw anger directed at him, Nathan remained calm; he hadn't gotten this far not knowing the best way to respond to someone nearly screaming at you was in a quieter, calmer voice. "Your anger is understandable, General, but I humbly request you don't allow it to cause you to do anything rash.

"We had a rogue Zaitron, which we ourselves quickly neutralized; otherwise my own life and that of the princess would have been just as forfeit as those of you, your men, and Empress Setsuko.

"After that, for reasons I am currently unaware of, a group of Sakers commenced an attack that we were forced to deal with as well; based on your reaction, I would bet they were acting on the same orders as our own traitor."

"Your Republic's arrogance has gotten high indeed, if you think I'll accept such a lie! I have no idea what to say about your men, but mine do not disobey orders; the only way they would've attacked is if someone relayed to them false commands!"

"I'm afraid the Prime Minister speaks the truth, General."

Ian turned his head back to the entryway, and the others looked as well. The guards at the door rapidly parted, allowing one of the largest of the Steel Shoulder commandos that made up the general's personal guard to enter.

Two smaller commandos were behind him, dragging in a rather sore-looking Rakthian officer. He was in manacles and chains at the moment, and the commandos weren't treating him very well; both were glaring at him with a near-murderous look.

Trevelyan looked to him a moment, then back to his tall subordinate. "…What is the meaning of this, Comrade Argo? What's Colonel Koneski doing in shackles?"

Argo scowled, moved over to the captive officer, and seized him by the back of his uniform's collar, like he was nothing more than a filthy dog. "I saw Koneski with my own eyes, General; he was the one who gave the order to that Saker squadron. I also heard him say he looked forward to seeing you die along with the rest of the guests."

"That's a lie!" the colonel outburst. "I would never betray the Fatherland!"

Argo simply gave him a shake, shutting him up, before reaching into his own pocket and coming out with a small cube, which he held out to the general. Ian stared a moment, but then advanced to take it from him.

"I knew you would need evidence, General. I took this moments before apprehending him; he condemns himself in it."

"That's counterfeit!" the officer shouted back, even as his skin began to pale with clear terror. "It has to be!" He soon erupted into a stream of Rakthian, a mixture of pleas and curses from what Nathan could gather, all insisting he was innocent.

Trevelyan didn't answer; he accepted the cube, brought it before his eyes, and tapped the side button. An image soon popped up: it was a bit grainy, and interspersed with a great deal of irrelevant material that had accidentally been recorded along with it, but it was clearly a shot of Koneski speaking into a Codec.

The dialog was all in Rakthian, so Nathan only picked up bits and pieces, but Koneski was definitely giving an order to attack; he knew that well enough from his time in the Aurino military. Apparently, so did the general. In moments, all the anger he had reserved for the prime minister had been fully redirected. He looked up into Koneski's eyes with such a stare that one might have felt their breast being stabbed by its sharpness. He held up the cube and waved it.

"This recording was made only a few minutes ago. Explain how a counterfeiter could have waited until just now to craft it."

Koneski was silent; he looked like a rabbit in a trap.

Trevelyan's anger swelled. "You bjorshnikth. You caused five men to die for nothing!"

On hearing this, the colonel finally snapped. He knew he had been found out, and he didn't bother denying it anymore. "Damn it all. I was so close to ridding our nation of the blight of you—you miserable half-breed," he hissed. "I can't even stand your bastard stench around the capitol!

"I would have been a hero for washing your smudge from the glory of the Fatherland! I would have led our nation into war, to give us the glory we've deserved!" His face was growing redder and redder now, his own fury and temper flaring.

Trevelyan glared at him silently a moment, his face creased in barely-restrained anger; the words had hit a raw nerve, and he was struggling to keep from violence…yet somehow he held his rage in check.

Finally, he held a hand up and pointed at the prisoner. "Remove this traitor from my sight," he ordered coldly. He then told his captive, "I would have you shot now if I didn't want to know who else was involved in this. Know this, Colonel: you'll wish I had killed you just now before I'm done with you!"

Koneski's face only got redder and redder. Sweat was starting to pour off of it as he struggled against his bindings. "Damn it! Damn him!" he cried, continuing to pull and strain. He began to curse in Rakthian again, as his face went from red to violet and sweat continued to come forth. Soon he began to pant as he struggled.

"Be a man, you miserable dog." Trevelyan snorted. "You're flailing around uselessly like a little boy."

Koneski didn't stop, panting more and more heavily. The two commandos holding him actually began to grow uneasy as his skin kept turning darker, and he sweat more and more.

Slowly, they realized something: his breath was actually distorting light in ripples, like hot air. Furthermore, the sweat on his brow was rapidly drying, even as he got redder. The commandos actually backed away from him, as if he was getting hotter.

The general's face turned confused. "…What the…?"

"General," Nathan suddenly interjected, the others having spotted this by now. "I recommend you get away from that man, you and your guards."

A sizzling sound suddenly became audible, coming from Koneski: to the shock of the men who had been holding him, parts of his skin were beginning to literally fry. Everyone pulled farther back as steam burst from his body—a good thing, too, for soon after the skin had melted off flames began to leap from him.

The panting gave way to screaming, but only for a moment, before fire ripped out of the colonel's throat. His eyes shriveled up in his skull and flames leapt out of the sockets as well, and the figure staggered back a step before his flesh began to melt off and become totally consumed by fire. This wasn't all, either: he was getting hotter still.

Suddenly, whatever nerves he had that were still working made him pitch wildly, and the enflamed man began to thrash about the room. Argo, Trevelyan, the guards, and all others around quickly backed up and distanced themselves as he continued to grow hotter, now pushing the heat throughout the entire chamber as the flames on his body grew and grew, threatening to ignite the room's furnishings. Gifford, who had just reached them, eyed the burning man intently, then ordered sharply, "Everyone stand back—he's going to blow!"

Nathan, nearly consumed with horror and shock at what was happening, was torn away long enough to look back to the edge of the balcony, just as Gifford rapidly advanced upon Koneski's flaming, flailing body, and drew his weapon again.

By now, the heat pouring off of the Rakthian was enough to singe anyone nearby; enough to make everyone obey Gifford's command whether they'd heard him or not. The Magna Centurion was free to run right up to him, and did so, swinging his axe-mace back and tightening his muscles. Reaching the flailing, flaming body, he swung his weapon forward, mace-side-first, and smashed the traitor in the chest with all his strength.

A split second later, the remains of the individual smashed out a window, flying out over the chasm beyond and slowly beginning its descent.

Koneski's body never got anywhere near the bottom. At about seventy yards away from the building proper, the pieces exploded, looking almost like a Fire Bomb. Without a doubt, it would have bathed the entire council chamber in fire had it been in the room.

This was the last straw for Natalie. She cupped her hands over her mouth, her eyes filled with horror and her body shuddering violently. "By—by Mavlos…what happened to him?!"

Nathan, at last feeling like they had some breathing room, rubbed his beard. "…Seemed like a sort of suicide pill, or enforced suicide pill. —A last-ditch kamikaze attack, on top of all of this. Either he would rather die than go through an interrogation, or someone else wanted to make sure he kept any secrets to himself."

The general was silent a moment; much like the others, he was still shaken. As the seconds passed, though, his true irritation seemed to be moving towards the fact that the incident had taken place right under his nose. He stared at the scorch marks where the colonel had stood not long ago.

"I knew Koneski didn't like me for years, but I never dreamed he would have…" he slowly muttered. He exhaled and drew himself up. "…I was careless, and people died for it. This is my sin to bear."

"Don't blame yourself too much, General," Nathan immediately cut in. "We're only human; we can't be everywhere. Besides, this happened on all of our watches.

"Frankly, I think it's extremely unlikely your colonel was working alone. Someone had contacts in all three nations for this little scheme." He gestured about the room. "—A rogue Zaitron on our side, and a Jiodisan Union creature that went berserk on theirs—which I can only assume must have taken a powerful mage, or a keeper with chemicals to tamper with the beast's mind; the latter with a vet to give it a clean bill of health….

He folded his hands in front of himself. "While we may all disagree on a lot, there is one thing we can all plainly agree upon: none of us want our governments to plunge Marvados into another war." He tilted his head slightly. "…A fourth party, on the other hand, remains a distinct possibility."

Not only the general but everyone hesitated on hearing that. Nathan admitted to himself that that was just a theory, however; even if one of those numerous attacks had succeeded, the fact remained that they had been attacking their own nation, whichever one that happened to be.

General Trevelyan had just shown that plenty of Rakthians would like to see him removed through the dying words of his subordinate. If this was simply a "stand-in" for the Empress, who was already a figurehead, it would make sense that she would be disposable as well. Princess Natalie was here, but…

…But my brother already considered one of his offspring 'disposable', Nathan thought grimly.

The masked woman finally gave a shudder. "…Who could be so heartless?"

The princess, having calmed down a bit by now, drew herself up and sighed. "Plenty, I'm afraid; there're all sorts of terrorists and revolutionaries out there. That Ibis Corps group comes to mind…."

"That would be terribly convenient for you," the general snorted. "—Being able to blame it on everyone's least-favorite extremist PMC group. While that's feasible, I won't rule out that your nation might have set this up to shift things in your favor. You did have the jump on your own traitor…."

Nathan merely gave out a laugh, surprising himself as well as the general. "Come now, General," he retorted, "just how would killing you all look favorable for my brother, or anyone else in the Aurino Republic?

"You yourself noted how we've had issues quelling hostility in some of our territories; do you really think we would want to make things worse by trying to acquire even more?

"How well do you think my king would be favored if we incited a major conflict? Besides—" He smiled a bit more. "—you're one of the few Rakthian generals I can have a civil conversation with, and the Empress is a friend of our princess. Do you think I'd want myself killed just to get you two?"

The general stared for a moment. While Nathan's body language and gestures were easygoing enough, his gaze was far more focused and serious. Ian slowly inhaled. "…I suppose there's logic to what you say."

"—Logic to what you say, as well, I'm afraid, in that this is exactly what whoever did this wanted," the prime minister replied, looking to the rest of the room. "Even if the attack failed, they want to see the Great Nations at each other's throats.

"Now, Princess Natalie mentioned the Ibis Corps—a group that has certainly flown under the radar until now, yet we're finding ourselves all mutually realizing they need a more scrutinizing gaze as of late.

"What better way to get the heat off of them again than to have all of the great nations focusing on each other? While, naturally, I can't prove anything for certain at this point, we're also all well aware they seem to enjoy mass slaughter and killing for no particular reason—and, might I add, they profit greatly from it."

Those around Nathan took a moment to absorb his little speech. Empress Setsuko suddenly nodded. "You're correct, Lord Zilos; we've all worked hard to reach an understanding between our nations, and we can't let some heartless private group make all of our efforts be for naught."

Before anyone could react, a new voice suddenly cut in. "I must agree with such wisdom, Empress—a chaotic world is a world that would be so very unprofitable!"

Nathan swerved his head to the right and repressed his alarm as he saw Ares, back in his alter ego of Alec Steel, strutting into the room. Despite all the fighting he'd gone through, the leader of the Ibis Corps had seemingly found enough time to clean himself up after his fight with the Crimson Tengu Ravens; not only was his business suit pristine, but he didn't seem at all stressed.

Alec, once again blond-haired, noted the looks on the faces of the dignitaries before giving a polite bow and saying, "…My apologies for being absent—I was in the middle of a tense business negotiation when all the insanity started. Not having much of a liking for the thrill of danger, I stayed there until the action was over. I must say, it seems that people these days have no manners at all; how sad…."

Nathan eyed Steel silently for a moment before saying, "…We thank you for your…condolences, Mister Steel, but it would be best if civilians vacated the summit building for the duration of the investigation. The city will likely be on high alert for the remainder of the conference."

"Oh, of course, of course," the lobbyist answered, "I just didn't want to pull out before making sure all three representatives were well and accounted for." He began to turn to leave, before he paused and looked back. "Oh…I don't suppose you have an idea of a suspect already, do you?"

"You'll find out when the media does, Mister Steel," the prime minister calmly replied, "but I'd say it was likely an outside source with contacts in all three governments."

"…Oh, really?"

"I don't suppose you would have spotted or heard anything related to it, would you? —Some scrap or nugget?" Nathan asked. "It would be helpful to know now; I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that, one way or another, we will find who committed today's crime and make sure they are punished to the full extent of the law."

Alec didn't look the least bit miffed. "I'm afraid I know little, Prime Minister." He smirked a bit. "—And I can tell by looking how you must feel. Nevertheless, I assure you that I had nothing to do with any of today's attacks. I don't suppose there's anything I did or anything I said that would lead you to think I was involved, is there? —Because I'm sure I could answer for it…."

Nathan stared back silently; one could hear a pin drop in the room.

"…No, nothing."

Alec gave a light chuckle, as if relieved, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. "Well, I'm glad to hear that; for a moment, I thought I was looking at an interrogation. I assure you, I was busy with rather mundane affairs the whole time. My employees can vouch for me, as can the security footage. I'll be happy to have whatever evidence lies in my possession sent to you directly."

The prime minister gave a slow nod. "I would appreciate that, Mister Steel, just on the off chance that one of them did manage to pick up something that was out of place, of course."

"I believe we would each like to see a copy," General Trevelyan interjected. Unlike the prime minister, who was somewhat casual, his look was far harder. "Now, then—I believe it would be best if you not only left the building, but headed back to Aurino as soon as possible. There are serious matters to discuss here, and the summit is over."

"That won't be a problem, General, of course," Alec answered with another nod. "As a matter of fact, this was just one stop on my route, and I needed to get going anyway—no rest for the wicked, and all that. Good evening!"

Giving one last bow, the lobbyist turned to leave.

"Mister Steel."

He paused midstep, and looked back to see who had spoken.

"If what happened today didn't have any involvement with you or BMC," Nathan casually pointed out, "it seems odd that you would assume automatically that we would believe you personally were involved."

Steel stared silently back, and, for the briefest instant —perhaps as a result of some change in lighting, or a trick of the eye— his look seemed to change, as if burning with a deep-seated hatred….

Almost at once, though, it was gone, and he laughed. "…Just paranoid, I'm afraid. I know I'm not the most-liked person at the summit currently, but alas—to excel in business sometimes requires one to be a magnet to hatred. Best of luck to all of you in finding the truth!" He gave one more casual wave, and then turned and walked out.

Even with the man gone, everyone was silent for a moment afterward. However, their minds soon focused back upon the current situation, and Natalie exhaled. "…So, what do we do now?"

"I suppose we all have matters to attend to," Nathan shrugged, "but we should at least give some sort of 'official end' to the ceremonies; we don't want to give the impression that the terrorists won the day."

"Agreed," Trevelyan answered, drawing himself up. "We should come out of today with a united face. I'm beginning my investigation right now, and I'm starting with every last soldier in this entire city. If there are any spies left, I shall squeeze them out." He gave a single, short nod, and then turned and walked out. Argo and the other two Steel Shoulder commandos followed him, taking only a moment to glance again at the scorch marks on the floor and at Gifford.

Kaolin cleared her throat and nudged the Empress. "My lady, I think it would be best to contact the Mandarin."

The masked woman seemed to stiffen a bit. "Oh—of course, Lady Kaolin." Her head turned to the others. "Natalie, Lord Zilos…in spite of today's events, I hope to see relations between our three nations improve."

"Thank you, my lady," Natalie answered.

Both women bowed to each other, and the Empress turned to leave as well, her entourage rapidly surrounding her. As they were still filing out, Nathan cleared his own throat slightly and moved up to the princess' side, getting her attention.

"Nat, I have a few things to attend to, related to today's assault," he said quietly. "—Nothing that would interest you, but they have to be addressed all the same. Would you mind handling things here until I'm done? I'll leave Gifford behind; I'm sure he'll be happy to swat any reporters that get too pushy."

Natalie grimaced —she didn't seem to like the idea of being left on her own— but she didn't protest as she reached up and began to adjust her somewhat disheveled hair. "…All right. I'll see what I can salvage from today—if there's anything to salvage at all…."

He nodded and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you. Oh—one last thing: do you know where Kristen is? I could use her advice on something…."

---

Troy was more than a little sore and very uneasy by this point. By now, night had fallen, and everyone in the city had heard what had happened at the summit: not one, not two, but all three nations' militaries had been infiltrated by rogue agents that had nearly blown up their representatives. Now the streets were swarming with rather irate Rakthians looking for anyone who even smelled like a spy. Even he didn't care to be out at a time like this.

Of course, what he was wondering, and what all of the Ravens he could contact were also wondering right now, was where Requiem, Dan, and Voltaire fit into all of this. They hadn't heard anything on the Codec from them in a while, and neither did they see any sign of them—had they been tied up by all this new security, or something worse?

The man spat on the ground as he looked around a bit, which didn't show him much—all he could see was the extra-wide hotel hallway where Claire was staying.

Before, he had been loitering out front, but that had been put to a stop when the Rakthians had started patrolling and ordering people inside. Next he'd hung in the lobby, but it wasn't long before some soldiers came in and started looking for people hanging out there, too. He eventually was forced to outside Voltaire and Claire's hotel room, which wasn't exactly the best vantage point in the world; what he could see was a whole load of nothing. He swept his head one way and another, but all he ever saw was the same boring walls, doors, and carpeting. He couldn't even hear anything from here.

"…Man, I wish I had a drink right now…or could find someone's head to smash in. All that's going on, and here I am, lounging around like a sucker waiting to—"

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

In a flash, Troy spun around, lashing out with one hand to seize who had done that by the lapel and rearing back his other to drive it into their face: no one had been at his side a moment ago, and his first instinct was to attack whoever or whatever had touched him.

He stopped quickly, however, on seeing who it was.

Dan looked like something stuck to the bottom of a Grande Gato's paw. In addition to bruises, bumps, and lacerations, his clothing was singed and torn. Voltaire wasn't much better. It was a good thing he didn't need his mask around Troy, because it mostly looked to have been melted.

The worst-off of all, however, was the still-smoking near-corpse on Dan's back. Troy couldn't make out much, because the two men had scared up a gray tarp to cover most of him, but from the busted-up helmet he could tell it was Requiem.

"Chill, Troy," Dan managed with a rather weak chuckle.

Troy blinked and released him, but continued to gape at the three. "…Damn, man…you guys look like you went through hell. What the heck happened? —You run into Zandoris' boss, or something?"

"Yes, actually," Dan wearily answered. "Up to that point, it was going well, too. Requiem actually got the drop on one of the other Jinn Cadre before he could go all-out; nearly took him down permanently before the guy on top of the food chain showed up." He indicated behind him. "—Hit Requiem like a tornado…mostly because he hit him with a tornado. He's been getting worse over the past hour; we've got to get him inside."

Troy went a bit wide-eyed as he staggered back from the door. "Wait…an hour? You mean he's still smokin' after that long!? Hell, man—this is why I said you should have brought me along! Boss-Man didn't know what he was getting into…again. That's two strikes, man…."

"I admit, it would be nice to know how things would turn out for once, but forget that for now." Voltaire sighed and stepped forward to open the door for Dan, letting him start to walk in.

As he passed over the threshold, Dan looked back to Troy. "Just watch things a tad bit longer, would you bro? As soon as we're sure he's not croaking, we're out of here."

The big man paused for a moment, but in the end just nodded. As the other two went in and shut the door behind them, he sighed and looked back out down the hall again. His arms crossed as he muttered, "At this rate, we ain't gonna last long. At least it ain't boring…."

---

"What the hell did that to him!?"

For once, Dan didn't have anything smug to say to Claire, even though she had clearly just gotten out of what had to have been a four-or-five-hour bath, considering the towel around her head and the fresh clothes. He was just glad that one of the beds was clear for him to put Richard down on.

Troy was right about one thing: on unwrapping the tarp from around Richard, he could see the armor still sizzling. He was stunned—if it was that hot, it should have fused to his skin by now, which meant they weren't getting it off without ripping his flesh off with it…

"Think 'twister', then imagine it's made of fire instead of wind, and that it's electric, too," Voltaire replied. "The only reason he's not a pile of ashes right now is the guy wanted him to suffer longer before he died." He gestured to the pieces of armor still stuck to him. "Even Greymont got cooked by that. Guess that rules him out being totally temperature-proof…."

Dan swallowed uneasily as he leaned back. "Not even sure Greymont's still alive, man…"

"Well, don't just stand there…" Claire said, clearly unsettled a bit at the sight of what had happened. "Give him your potions!"

"We did." Voltaire sighed. "We used all our potions, but it only slowed, not stopped, the injuries; the amount of damage was just too—huh?"

Claire had been rather uneasy, hearing that. She had looked back to Richard while Voltaire was speaking, and suddenly given a start; Alphonse had reacted as well. Both Dan and Voltaire promptly looked back and got a surprise.

Unlike before, when he had been dragged off of Richard, Greymont's body was now pulling off of him freely, seeping to one side of his friend and then pouring off of his arm, onto the mattress, and down to the ground like a viscous version of quicksilver.

He remained a puddle for a moment before slowly shifting back into the more-familiar dragon-form they were used to. It was definitely an effort this time; normally, Greymont could transition in seconds—this took him close to half a minute. Even when he returned, his body was still sizzling, burned, and even cracked in places.

"Ugh…can't hold shape anymore…" he moaned, "…stings all over…"

Dan's surprise gave way to relief: Greymont was alive—that was good. Better than that …well, relatively speaking… while Richard had even less of his armor remaining now, and his body was still clearly in horrible shape, the sizzling was gone: it seemed that Greymont had taken the brunt of the damage. He was sure it wasn't the nicest thing in the world for the dragon, but at least Greymont was conscious….

Of course, that didn't seem to be much better of a situation. The tailed being coughed once before collapsing. Moments later, Alphonse leaned up a bit and a green beam shot from his eyes. After sweeping it over both of Ares' victims, he looked up to the others.

"The human's condition continues to deteriorate and will reach critical levels soon. I am unsure of the exact of Greymont's physiology, but assuming certain constraints are identical across beings, his health is also failing."

"—The hell?" Dan snapped. "That was a long time ago!"

"Yeah, well…he wasn't exactly using 'normal' fire." Voltaire grimaced. "—Guess that means that, next time we go up against him —assuming he doesn't just off us outright— all he has to do is tag us with a spell and we've got a death sentence."

Someone pounded on the door. Dan snapped his head up in an instant; Claire also whirled to it, and Alphonse looked up, popping out his blades. If it had been Troy or one of the other Ravens, they would've called out their names first. Voltaire paused momentarily, but then quickly and silently moved up to it. His head ghosted over to the peephole and looked out.

A moment later, he eased considerably, and looked to the others with a thumbs-up. Dan only slowly relaxed; Alphonse put his weapons away; Claire kept her gaze on the entrance. As for the red-haired man, he opened the door readily.

At once, Dan's jaw loosened and fell as none other than the prime minister himself walked right in.

"Sorry I'm late," Nathan said, "I'm sure you two know how hard it was to get through this city looking like roughed-up civilians; you can only image how hard it would be for the unescorted Prime Minister of Aurino to walk the streets.

"—And I had another stop to make before arriving, as well, mostly to make sure our Zaitron 'agent' got off the Mjolnir safely. Luckily I had someone to help with the cover…" He turned back to the door right as Voltaire was trying to close it, and motioned for him to stop.

"Come in, Kristen."

There was no shortage of surprise to go around the room on learning that the prime minister himself was not only there, but that he had brought someone else. Soon after, a blond-haired young lady with a pink-and-magenta dress, looking made up for a gala, came walking inside. She looked rather confused, and even a bit sore about walking in at first.

"…All right, Lord Zilos, we're here, but what would you want with a hotel room…remod…el…."

As soon as she walked inside, the second visitor, apparently named Kristen, froze. Her jaw loosened as she stared at Richard on the bed, her pupils shrinking into dots. Then she looked around the rest of the room.

She eyed Dan first, seeing his rather messed-up appearance and that he had the look of a gang member. She saw Voltaire, torn up and not nearly the image he normally made for magazine covers, and who was seemingly just as surprised to see her there.

Then there was Claire and Alphonse, both of which regarded her with some apprehension. In moments, the woman was glancing about the room with increasing tension and shock on her face. Nathan, the only one moving now, sighed as he went over to the door and shut it for Voltaire.

"It's all right, everyone. This is Richard's old friend, and she already knew he was still alive. The fact is, as good as I am, everyone has their own magical specialties—and while Kristen mostly uses hers for visual enhancements and accessorizing, she's fairly good at healing as well; best I could find on short notice."

"Wait…that…that masked man over there…is Richard!?" Kristen suddenly gasped. She looked at him in more shock, realizing that not only was this a badly beaten and burned man, but her friend as well. "…And…and what's that thing next to him? It looks like a…a…a d-d-dr…"

Dan looked up to Nathan. "…You sure she knew he was still alive? She looks pretty shocked."

"That's about all she knew." The prime minister shrugged, then added not wanting to dwell too long on Greymont, it seemed, "Don't worry; whatever the creature is, he's friendly enough." He then looked over the other Ravens. "Good god…" he remarked, "…I thought nothing short of a Magna Centurion could do all this…."

Kristen managed to look away from the dragon and back to the other humans. "…What the…how…Voltaire…what is all this?"

"Yeah, remember what we said about trying to root out corruption in the Aurino Kingdom?" the young man answered, giving his neck a scratch. "—This is kind of what we came up with."

"…Could you rein in your surprise long enough to save him, before he kicks the bucket?" Claire suddenly quipped. "We can all get cozy and have coffee together after two of us aren't dying…."

This seemed to shake the other woman out of it. While still nervous about all of these strangers, she turned to Richard and focused on him. She moved to his side and then knelt, looking him over. She trembled a bit at the sight.

"What…what happened to him?"

"As I told Claire, over there, think demonic magical tornado, but with lightning." Voltaire grimaced. "As bad as Zandoris was, we've got a much bigger problem in his boss. At least Zandoris was just an 'executioner'…. This chap drags it out. Not sure whether to be happy or sad that he tortured us…."

"So, where's our friend from BMC?" Dan spoke up.

Nathan frowned. "Alec Steel knows full well that none of us trust him…and he also knows there's nothing we can do about it, and is flaunting it in our faces. —Not sure if he was actually coordinating things, or making sure whichever people were pawns for the Ibis Corps were making the right moves during all this, but there isn't the slightest doubt in my mind that he had a hand in everything today. The real reason he checked in on us, I'm sure, was in the hopes that at least one of us would be dead after all his attempts to kill us…"

Kristen blinked at this. "…Alec Steel? What does he have to do with all this?"

"It's a long story, but I'll be more than happy to fill you in on the details at this point, Kristen—provided you can keep them quiet, for your own safety," the prime minister answered. "Suffice to say, he's part of this mess too."

"Well, all Ares wanted was the emerald." Voltaire sighed. "Can we at least say we caught him on film?"

The prime minister shook his head, frustrated. "I'm sure the security footage will only show him talking on his transmitter at most, and that's not a crime."

"So we failed the stop the thief, failed to save a crapload of people, and we once again got treated like bugs by the Ibis Corps," Dan muttered, "—not exactly a great 'success record' we've got against those guys; I guess we're lucky we ain't much compared to them, or they'd just start things off by killing us."

"Forget that for now." Nathan sighed. "All we can do at the moment is cut our losses. Kristen, if you would…."

The woman swallowed a bit, but then nodded. "…All right. Can we get off the rest of his armor?"

"Why not?" Dan shrugged as he moved up to his leader. "—I'm pretty sure at this point the name 'Richard' has been flung about enough that we all know who this guy really is…."

The former gangster moved over and began to pry off the rest of the armor. He was glad it wasn't quite as bad as it had seemed before Greymont had peeled off of him —he'd been afraid he'd literally be peeling pieces of Richard off— but even so, there were some rather nasty burns underneath the armor; some of them were third-degree.

Each new chunk he removed made Kristen wince a bit more, especially the parts that made sounds reminiscent of wet bandages…yet, piece by piece, they dropped to the ground.

With the armor clearly melted so badly that some of it was painfully twisted into Richard like thorns, everyone knew there was no time for more awkward conversations, and treated things like a trip to the ER. First Richard's mask was taken off, mostly intact, then his helmet, his breastplate, and the various pieces on his arms, leaving him topless. Dan wasted no time in stripping off his leg armor as well, since it was clearly twisted into painful shapes that cut into his feet and his legs.

With the last segment of his armor now looking jagged no time is wasted to rip the last part off like cracking a nut, leaving the young man totally exposed. At least it seemed that being naked and having nothing on his body eased Richad's pain a tad.

Kristen stretched her hands over Richard and gently pulled out the last few metal fragments imbedded in his skin, then paused. She looked to the creature on the ground, and while she was clearly uneasy about it, she shifted herself so that she was now between the two, extending a hand over either. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then traced a gesture with both hands, speaking an arcane word. She extended her fingers: white spheres of light began to gather on her fingertips, and then float down into her patients. This continued for a few moments, sending clouds of the tiny objects into Richard and Voltaire. As soon as they touched Ares' latest victims, they broke open and sank into the skin.

Dan was honestly impressed by the results: he'd thought this young woman was only a pretty face, meant to hang around galas and balls, on first seeing her, but she was apparently quite competent with magic. The spell began to take hold immediately: the worst burns quickly shrank from third-degree to second-degree, and continued to improve as the first- and second-degree burns disappeared altogether. The cracks in Greymont's metal body slowly began to shrink, and Richard's bruises faded.

Finally, Richard gave a moan and turned his head.

"Have to…stop you," he murmured.

Suddenly, he gave a violent cough. That startled Kristen into cutting off her spell, but it seemed the spell's work was done—they weren't both in 'perfect working order' yet, but both of them were looking much better.

Richard put his hands at his sides and forced his head up a bit, blinking a few times. The others were silent, watching as he looked around and slowly seemed to realize where he was and who was beside him. On noticing Kristen, he looked even more stunned.

"…Kristen? Is…is that really you?"

The blond-haired woman blinked once herself, then ventured a very weak smile and a nod. "…Yeah…it's me. Nathan brought me here." She exhaled in relief, then pulled a blanket over Richard, since he was nude. "Richard…what were you doing, dressed like…like that? Your uncle told me you were forming an underground group, but…."

Despite his injuries, Richard couldn't help but chuckle as he quipped, "…Sorry I'm not very presentable at the moment; I know this isn't the most…'fashionable' state to be in."

Kristen giggled lightly. "Don't worry about it; you have a perfectly reasonable excuse. It's just…I knew you would be doing some undercover work, but I guess I didn't really realize just how dangerous a game you were playing."

Richard sighed and pointed out bitterly, "It's as dangerous as you could get, but it's a game I have no choice but to play. I can't hope to make things right without getting my hands dirty.

"The stakes are too high. Ares is even more insane than I first assumed, and he and the Ibis Corps are a threat to the entire world. Damn it—from the start, I knew something was crooked about Alec Steel, but I never thought he'd turn out to be such a monster of a black mage."

Kristen's eyes widened. "…What? Alec Steel was with us! He did this to you? …But he's just a lobbyist! "

Richard looked remorseful as he curled his metal hand tightly and muttered, "No; he's far from that, Kristen—he's a deceptive and very diabolical dark wizard, and the leader of the Ibis Corps. He's behind everything, and I'd finally cornered him! I wanted to settle things today, but I wasn't strong enough to do anything. I…."

Richard suddenly coughed up blood and moaned in pain, and Greymont said weakly,"Sorry, Boss. It was my fault—if I had been strong enough to give you the power you needed, you'd be able to go home now."

Richard chuckled bitterly. "It's okay, Greymont—it was my fault. You were right; we should have backed away. I…just wanted to make him pay for everything he did; I was so consumed with rage that it blinded me to the truth. I'm just…too weak to stop him."

Kristen saw how distraught Richard was, and grasped his hand. "You're not weak, Richard; you're still alive, after all.

"You really have been through so much…. Oh, Richard…I'm sorry you couldn't take down that Ares creep, but I am grateful you survived!"

Nathan added, "—And don't think all your efforts have been in vain. True, you couldn't beat Ares, nor stop him from taking the Dragon Helix Emerald, but don't forget, if not for your group's actions, his spies would have been able to launch their ambush successfully; your sister, the other dignitaries, and I would likely be dead, and a war would have erupted from the ensuing chaos. Don't doubt for a second whether you accomplished anything, Richard—you've accomplished much since you started this; more than I ever thought you could in such a short time.

"You're not alone; you have strong allies, my nephew, and the work you've accomplished with them is remarkable. Maybe it's not enough to stop the Ibis Corps yet, but hang in there, and you can accomplish your goals yet.

"I'm sorry that you can't return home just yet; it pains me that I can't even tell your sister that you're here right now. Just hang in there, and we can still fix things.

"I may not be able to expose this Ares just yet, but I'll definitely do all I can to root him out. I'd love to just shoot him in front of your father and force him to reveal his true nature to the public, but something tells me it won't be that easy. Even so, I promise you, we will find a way!"

Richard looked relieved. "Thanks, Uncle Nathan—I guess things aren't quite as bleak as I'd been thinking. I've been patient this long; I can wait a little longer."

Dan suddenly gave a thumbs-up and formed a half-smile. "We've got your back. Getting smacked hardcore is fine, as long as you can get back up to live another day. We managed to get a few things done right without any of us dying, and that's a win in my book!"

Voltaire nodded. "True, Ares escaped, and even escaped with his cover intact, but now we have a better idea of what he's up to. We'll have to tread carefully, and take things one step at a time, but we can do this.

"Even someone of Ares' magical caliber can be taken down with the right planning; we can just lead him to the Magna Centurions or something."

Claire shrugged. "…He doesn't seem that great. I mean, seriously—who calls themself the God of War? He's clearly not as smart as he thinks he is; we can take him!"

Kristen giggled. "Your friends seem rowdy but faithful, Richard; I guess I can be calm, knowing they have your back. Just…promise you won't be reckless, okay? Promise me you'll get out of all this alive, Richard. I mean it!"

Richard felt Kristen grasping his hand tightly, and a sensation suddenly pulsed through his body. As his heart beat faster, he held Kristen's hand tighter, grabbed the discarded Auro Solais with his other hand, and dramatically proclaimed, "Don't worry, Kristen; no matter how powerful Ares and his followers are, I have no intention of letting him win. Despite his claims, I refuse to think that justice is impossible in this world, and I won't give up 'til he faces it!"

Nathan nodded. "Just rest for now, Richard; I have to return to your sister soon, but you all will have enough time to regroup before returning to Los Midas. From there, we'll figure out how best to handle this turn of events, and how to stop the Ibis Corps."

Dan shrugged and added, "At the very least, your planning was top notch, Lord Zilos; no one died."

Voltaire chuckled before retorting, "Well, none of us died. It seems your friend, Zach, made some noise as a Zaitron intern-gunner today.

"To explain where you've been all this time, let's just say you died in the attack. If they hear you got blown up here, no one will be looking for you or your corpse."

As Dan winced at the idea, Nathan laughed. "It would be easy enough to send a death gratuity to a fake address…."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Whatever. As long as it means no one will make a fuss, I don't mind hiding in Claire's room on the way back."

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? You're going to go in a box on the way back; I'm not sharing my room."

Richard laughed and commented, "As long as we can relax on the way back, I don't care how I leave; I'll just be glad I can leave at all."

As Richard's friends laughed, the severity of the situation slowly crept from his mind, allowing him to avoid thinking about just how harsh his situation still was, at least for a little while.