Day 5 Morning

[The Spirit]

The Island was quiet. All of the primes were gathered as one to defeat the source of all this trouble. For once this Island may soon experience peace.

[Red]

Pre-F2F

Trunks and Ammy—over the last few hours, he had gotten to know her well enough to refer to her by her nickname—stayed put. The temporary alliance with the mechanical creature's group—Kopaka? That's what he heard the Kai looking man with the receding hairline called him—ended as soon as the last battle came to a conclusion. They split off, and traveled east, murmuring about the warlock as they departed.

“So, what should we do?” Ammy asked.

She did her best to cater to her wounds. She used her moist tongue to lick her burns, calming the pain. It may have been a momentary comfort for the wolf, but it was one that Trunks wished he had at his disposal for when he had been cooked.

Trunks mulled over their options as he tended to his own injuries—a couple of wild gunshots, which struck him in his shoulder and thigh. The one in his thigh had gone right through, in the front and out the back, and missed every major artery; however, the wound in his shoulder was without an exit, signifying the bullet lay lodged somewhere in his bone or cartilage. He took the blue blanket from earlier and ripped it into two long pieces, bounding one around each bullet cavity. They turned purple quickly, infused with the color of his flowing blood.

“I don't know,” Trunks replied.

He glanced ahead. Barely visible past the collage of trees, the swordsman could still make out fragments of the group they had fought earlier—the group that Trunks had fought twice now, by his count, both times getting the short end of the stick. The robotic teenager and the two-toned mouse hunkered over their deceased teammate. It was disturbing. Not the attention they gave their fallen comrade, but the lack of remorse they exhibited; the forest was silent enough to drop a pin in. They just stared.

What're they up to? Trunks pondered. A mixture of anxiety and unease brewed in the pits of his bowels.

“I feel another battle coming,” he muttered as he glanced over towards Ammy. “Prepare yourself.”

The wolf's eyes bulged up. “Another one?” She stopped licking her front leg. “Why would they do that? Aren't well all on the same team here? I don't understand the senseless mayhem.”

All part of Teucer's plan, the swordsman thought, but reserved his opinion from the wolf. “Not sure, but there isn't any point in running, not in our current conditions.” He pulled his rifle from his lap and held it on his right side, index on the trigger. “Okay, so if—or when—they come back over here, I'm gonna launch a few of these grenades, then spray for dear life.” He looked back over at Ammy. “Hit them with your most powerful attack, and then get the hell outta dodge.”

One of the wolf's brow ridges curved upward, out of perplexity. “I don't understand.”

“Just give them a quick offensive, then run. I'll stay behind.” He checked the explosive compartment of his gun—four shells left. “I know what being roasted like a chicken feels like, and its no way to fight.”

“No,” Ammy retorted; Trunks whipped his head back to his ally. “I'm not going to leave you here to die.” The fire on her back rekindled, engulfing the disc on her back with a blue-hued flame.

Trunks smiled, and then nodded. “Let's blast these guys.”

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the distance. It was a familiar female voice, soft but with a hint of aggression. “Got a problem on your hands?”

Trunks and Ammy both looked over their shoulders. Behind them, the woman who had saved the swordsman's life stood. It was Orihime, and with two friends. One appeared borderline bipolar, and the other an adolescent with ebony hair. All three of them wore the decorations of battle experience—their clothes tattered and their skins scuffed.

Post-F2F

The third time against the Mouse Squad had proven not to be a charm; a new fusion left the swordsman laying on the ground. Stars winked across his vision like cigarette burns flashing on the corners of theater films. He went to stand, but sharp pains stabbed at the innards of his chest, and he collapsed on his side with a dull thump.

“Faaaaalllll baaaaaack!” one of his allies cried, and then repeated.

The ebony-haired teen dashed over to the swordsman, and slung him over his shoulders.

Trunks picked his head up and watched as his odd crew made haste behind him, following the teenager into the forest.

After they accumulated some distance away from the other 'Heroes', the ebony-haired teenager stopped. He gently leaned Trunks against a tree, and placed his firearm next to him. The rain finally started to gradually subside; however, it remained dark, and partially cloudy. Bolts of lightning flashed sporadically, cutting through the night sky, revealing a red dot perpetually nearing. It grew in size with every passing of lightning.

“I can't tell you how much I owe you, Orihime,” he said, giving the redhead a soft smile as he glanced her way. His body was battered to a pulp, but he was still alive.

“It's only right,” she replied. “You came to my rescue earlier, when I was outnumbered.”

“I shoulda gave them my all,” the adolescent growled. “Victor was a good man. He didn't need to die, nor did your wolf companion.” He shot a look towards the swordsman.

Trunks' eyes popped wide. “Ammy's dead?!” he exclaimed. He wildly swiveled his head in every direction, searching for the white coat of her fur. Nothing, but he distinctly remembered her retreating with the rest of them. “She can't be dead, she musta just got lost!” With an episode of coughs and groans, he mustered up the energy to reach down and grab his rifle, and then pushed off of the tree. A few of his coughs spit out wads of blood mixed with saliva, but he brushed his chin across the collar of his coat before anyone could catch notice. “I'm gonna go find her. She's still out there, somewhere.”

“She left when you were still phasing in and out of reality. Something about ending all of this. In her state, she be lucky to make it a half mile before dying.” the teenager countered. “There's no point in going after her.”

The swordsman had to try; Amaretsu would.

He went to walk forward, but Orihime threw herself in front of him, outstretching her arms to make a human barricade. “You can't go! If Sasuke said it's not worth the risk then it's not worth the risk!”

Trunks pushed her aside, and continued forward. “I'd rather try than let the guilt of not trying haunt me.”

“Let'em go, Orihime,” Sasuke said. He clapped his hand against her shoulder, and eased her away from Trunks. “He's a strong guy, I can tell, and I have no doubt we'll see him again.”

* * *

Trunks made haste as best he could, lumbering through the forest like a drunken senior citizen en route to the next bar still open. He stumbled more than a handful of times, but managed to return to persevere, albeit with his mangled ribs jabbing into his lungs each time. His emotions kept him driving forward, recounting each turn and bypass the group had taken in their withdrawal from the fight.

Stupid wolf, stupid wolf he told himself as he pushed every step forward. I told you to run. I told you to get the FUCK OUTTA DODGE! But no, you wanted to play the hero! You wanted to make sure I lived, or that we'd die together!

His eyes caught the stains of blood on the grass leaves. They were imprinted with the stamp of Amretsu's paws. Trunks was getting closer, but as he did his heart thumped harder and harder. It felt as if a drugged-up drummer pounded his drumsticks against his heart, and kicked the bass drum right into his mind. He felt the same way the day his best friend, Gohan, died.

Then he saw her. She lay nestled behind a line of bushes, curled up in a puddle of blood.

Trunks rushed over, tossing his rifle to the side as he fell to his knees in front of her. “No, no, no, no!” he yelped. His eyes stung as tears boiled up inside them, and spilled over in trails down his cheeks. He pulled up upper-body out of the blood and cradled her. “Wake up, wake up,” he muttered, then yelled: “Please!”

Ammy gave out a dry cough, and her eyes cracked open. “I'm still here,” she replied, in her usual pleasant tone.

Trunks smiled. “I knew you'd still be alive.”

“I went to go fight the Warlock. Get this over with, because the carnage . . . its too much.” She blew a wad blood-filled mucus from her nostrils. “Not sure if I can make it though. I feel so weak.” With a dry groan, she gestured over to her back, at the disc. It was still, and without a flame. “There's a scroll back there with instructions to help Teucer.”

Trunks never had any intentions of helping Teucer, or his mysterious objectives. The Spirit had nabbed him from the fountain, and forced him to sign his body over to an island of slaughter. If anything, the swordsman had intentions of confronting Tuecer, after all was said and done. But Amaretsu believed in the Spirit, and believed that fighting his opposition was the righteous thing to do.

For Amaretsu, Trunks would help the Spirit.

He picked her up from the ground and held her tightly. “This ain't over yet,” he assured. “Keep your scroll, cuz I'm gonna take you to fight this warlock.”

Warlock Challenge

The end neared, and Trunks could smell it; ahead stood the last resistance to Teucer, and the final conflict for those precious relics he yearned for. Trunks' failed to keep track of how many relics were already claimed, but the smoldering rock in the sky barreling towards the island all but confirmed this as the final confrontation—it was either defeat the warlock, or die in a blaze of molten remains.

All around, other 'heroes' had entered the fray—the Kai looking man, and his demonic sidekick; a one-eyed guy, accompanied by a confident blond dude; a woman with an octopus on her back jumped forward, along with a brown-haired individual; and the swordsman was sure to take note of the foursome that had made his life miserable this entire venture, as well. They all stood united, shoving their differences aside for the common goal.

“See, Ammy,” Trunks said, looking down at his partner; she sprawled in his arms, “everyone's come together for this.” He set her on the ground and brought his focus towards the threat. “Let me do the work this time.”

The warlock cackled as he spoke. His attire—a long, dark purple, robe—glinted with gold at every seam. He looked much like the Spirit (eerily identical), but the warlock's skin was pale, like death, and his eyes held torches within them.

The more he spoke, the more his right hand glowed. It lashed out like an aura, and encased his entire forearm. Instantly, he slammed his fist into the ground.

Decaying hands jutted up from the earth, clawing and grabbing at the air as they excavated themselves. There were plenty of them—the number mimicked the amount opposing the warlock.

Trunks readied his firearm, flicking the safety off, and pressing the butt of it into his armpit. The rest of the 'heroes' charged forward (some did so with battlecries, while other merely snarled), and jumped into the masses of undead. Limbs flailed around in the midst of the brawl—the little mouse beat a zombie, over the with his crowbar, until everything upward from its jaw no longer existed.

Trunks brought the iron point of his M16 to eye-level, and honed in on a cluster of untamed undead closing in on the group's flank. He flicked the attachment to his gun and arched a couple of grenades.

THOOOOOMP, THOOOOMP

The grenades exploded as soon as they kissed the ground, blowing up into a cloud of fire. The zombies caught in its radius ignited into piles of ash, and the ones in the perimeter were thrown into the air like rag-dolls. Dismembered arms and legs rocketed out of the spectacle, flopping across the battleground.

Trunks sent a grin over to Ammy. “Hopefully, I'll see you on the other side of all of this!”

He hurried over to the rest of the 'heroes' and began to help anyway possible. A zombie went for his bicep, but he used the butt of his rifle as a club, bludgeoning the creature again and again; six strikes in, the zombie's skull spewed black ooze from its crown, and collapsed forward. Trunks ripped his arm from the undead's grasp and turned to see the robot, from the mouse's group, becoming overwhelmed. The swordsman set their feud aside, swinging his rifle like a sword, knocking most of of the undead down.


“I got ya,” Trunks muttered as he helped his rival to full posture. The pains from their prior battles still ached him.

The robot smirked, and did a stabbing motion towards the swordsman, but his blade found home in the face of a lurking zombie, who had snuck up on the swordsman from behind.

“As do I yours.”

Trunks returned the smile; though they had spent most of the time on the island killing each other, the swordsman found solace in this temporary truce. Teucer have not have been the most purest of souls, but he had brought common minds—righteous minds, if the swordsman could dare utter—together.

Every individual who had shown face to fight the warlock was, indeed, a Hero.

[The Spirit]

CHALLENGE
THE WARLOCK VS. DESCO, URURU, BELLE, PROTO MAN, LINK, MICKEY MOUSE, MINATO, KAKASHI, TRUNKS, MAGUS, A. J. CROWLEY, AMATERASU

The Warlock’s eyes grew into an inferno, the pouring fire seeming to overflow from it’s sockets. He raised his hand to knock them all back before a bataraang hit him directly in the chest and shortly blew up. The smoke cleared and more of the Heroes were already on top of him. The Robot came out of nowhere with swords in his hands. Aka Manah couldn’t believe that he was being pushed back after they had been so beaten during their stay at this island. The Warlock made a waving motion and the Robot flew back, however he quickly got onto his feet. He looked to the side to see his army of the undead being so easily taken care of and he cursed underneath his breath.

Magus quickly charged at him, his chainsaw roaring in his hand. Aka raised his hand in the air to conjure many small dots above him. He smirked as he slowly descended his hand, causing the mini orbs to fly out at frightening speeds. A green fist hit the Warlock sending him flying into the wall. He growled as he got out of the cartoonish hole he was stuck in. Aka roared at the top of his lungs, he controlled these people so well...until now. The Warlock smashed his fist into the ground, causing the ground to shake beneath the primes. “You fools are in my territory. Don’t get too carried away.”

Spikes erupted from the ground knocking back the group of primes. Aka shoved his fist into the ground, a giant black fist erupted a few feet later smacking the group of primes. Bullets ran into Aka’s chest, blood starting to pour from his wounds, his energy leaving him. An explosion blasted right into his chest and he roared once more. He fell to the ground, his pale skin turning into something more. His jaw extended and horns began to protrude from his head. He screamed and looked into the group of primes laughing at the fools who had dared to challenge him. He stood up, ripping his hood off of his cloak fully revealing the extent of his goat like features. He frowned at the group in front of him, the had gotten too smart.

Aka raised his pale hands and waved it around, Ururu tensed up, her body being forced against it’s will. She screamed some nonsense to let her go but he didn’t listen to bugs when they spoke. He tossed her against her small friend, the small prime known as Desco was flung against the wall. He smiled softly before a small mouse came charging in with a redheaded prime with a crowbar. Aka raised his hand to conjure a fireball ball and tossed it down. The Mouse reflected it off the shield with ease before smashing the shield into the goat’s face. Belle cracked the crowbar right into his stomach cracking more than a few ribs. He snarled at her before pushing them off, hurling them into the background. He raised a finger to charge an attack before Blues rushed at him with the blades that have spilled so much blood. Aka fell back, before flinging back Blues as well. Blood trailed out of his mouth and the Warlock snapped his fingers to create more small orbs above him. The mini-orbs flew out at the party of primes, hitting each of them.

A bullet hit Aka in the shoulder and he turned to see Trunks aiming his weapon at him. “Just die!” A fireball quickly erupted from his hand and quickly turned to hit the warrior. Trunks’ eyes widened as the fireball approached, he cringed as he anticipated the fiery blast. He opened to see a familiar wolf-like lady take the blow for him, smoking coming from her body as the blast hit her. His brows furrowed and he screamed something pathetic. Bullets flew into his body and he screamed in rage. Trunks weapon clicked and he panicked as he reached for a clip. The Warlock raised his hand to conjure another attack but a strange high pitched noise pierced the air. The Warlock turned his head to see Crowley charging up Sir Beep Boop. He growled as the beam hit him directly on the chest, the music burning his chest open. Aka’s eyes panicked as he felt a hole in his vessel form. His soul was being ripped out of his chest, screaming across the entire cavern. His soul retreating into the Temple as his body crumpled, the body turning into dust leaving the Helmet. All of the primes were on their knees, fatigued from the battle. Crowley walked over to the crumbling body and picked up the Helmet.

[spoiler]

WARLOCK DEFEATED
AMATERASU DEAD
All primes in the event except those listed below take 2 damage
Magus - 1 DMG FATAL WOUND
Proto-0
Crowley-0
Desco-0
Desco used T1 Power Up -1 SP
Crowley recieves the Helmet Relic.

[/spoiler]

[Belle]

Her breathing ragged, Belle slumped to her knees. A stitch clenched painfully tight in her side, and her head was throbbing hard enough that she thought her skull might split down the middle. The warlock's flames had singed her arms, the price paid for treating her crowbar like an inpromptu bat against a giant fireball.

But it was done. It was over. Relief flooded her, and with it, all the crushing strains of the previous five days, all the ones that she had been holding back through sheer force of will, the ones she needed to keep at bay lest she come apart at the seams.

Well, that was being a little dramatic, she admitted to herself as she slumped forward. Really, she was just exhausted.

The ground was cool, if unyielding. She took a deep breath of the wet stone. Soon, she thought to herself: soon she would be able to sleep in her own bed. Soon - and at this thought her heart beat excitedly at the prospect - she could take a shower. Hell, she'd even settle for just one bowl of sugar-frosted Emper-O's.

Amazing what a few days roughing it could make you appreciate.

"Comfy?" Mickey asked.

"Kind of," Belle answered with a muffled yawn. Dawn crept across the cave floor, the east-facing entrance letting in a long, wan shaft of golden light that warmed her feet. Alas, as tempting as it was to indulge in a few hours of rest, they had to actually return the spirit's possessions before they could go home. That meant at least another day or so of hiking - assuming the island was back to normal.

Damn, she thought, If he can teleport us all the way to this island, why can't he just bring us back to the temple right now?

Sitting upright, Belle stretched her arms above her head, bones popping and muscles aching. "How is everyone?" she asked, casting a furtive look around the cave. Most seemed to have made it out okay, mostly just scrapes and scratches. Though - and her lip twisted at this - the wolf girl hadn't made it.

And the blue haired, maybe-sorta-villain? He didn't seem long for this world, either. The man who had killed her sat beside the prone form of his fallen compatriot. Neither of them seemed to be talking. Perhaps they didn't need to.

Serves them right.

The bitter thought settled, curdled, and began to stink inside her brain. That wasn't nice, a little voice told her.

Fuck nice. They killed me.

And Link had killed the robot. But so what? That guy had had it out for Mickey from the very start. He'd tried to cut the mouse in half with a CHAINSAW, of all things. They had just been defending themselves.

Still, the man on the floor continued to bleed, and that ugly sensation twisting her gut refused to go away.

Taking a shaky breath, Belle stood. Ignoring the questions of her companions, she walked over to the place where the warlock had finally fallen. Not much remained - even the dust seemed to have evaporated away. A demon - an honest to capital-G God-damned demon. She had not seen that coming.

Belle nudged the pile of empty robes with her foot. When she was satisfied it wasn't booby-trapped, she knelt, starting to tear long, wide strips out of it. The skirt was several feet shorter by the time she was done.

Piling the strips together, Belle picked them up and marched to the injured pair. The man looked up as she approached, his yellow eyes boring into her. There was something deeply unsettling about them - and it wasn't just the vertically slitted pupils.

She steeled herself, but he said nothing.

Belle set the improvised bandages down in front of them. This close, looking at the wound, she only just now realized how token the gesture was. She winced.

The eyes continued to stare, eyes with weight, ones that had seen everything the world had to offer and came away wanting. Finally, they twitched, and the man inclined his head in a barely perceptible nod.

"Sorry," she said, and started to turn away.

"Thanks," the man said at last.

Belle paused, took a breath, then nodded herself.

"Not that I'm complaining," he continued, "but you are aware your shirt is open?"

She felt her cheeks burn. Some of that nasty feeling was back. "Yeah. Funny thing about that," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "My friends did it when they were trying to get my heart started again. Apparently, someone tried to kill me." She shot daggers at him with her eyes.

"Ah. Well." The yellow orbs narrowed in amusement. "In my defense: you got better."

She held his gaze for as long as she could before finally tearing away. "Ugh. Whatever," she muttered, and stalked back to the group.

Well, that was awkward.

"What was that? Are you alright?" Blue asked as she returned.

"It wasn't anything. It's fine," Belle assured him. She picked at the torn scraps of her top. She had been too preoccupied with everything that was going on, what with coming back from the dead and all, to worry about modesty. Now that it had been called out, however, she really felt like something should be done.

Sliding off her jacket, Belle started to peel off her shirt. The boys reddened and turned away, and she rolled her eyes before spotting Link. "You, too," she told the Hylian, who seemed preoccupied with examining the box.

Link managed an expression somewhere between resignation and exasperation before doing as asked. Belle picked up the remainder of the warlock's robes, shook them out, then pulled them over her head. With the strips she had torn out of the bottom hem, it came to just past her knees.

"Done," she said. They turned back around.

"Belle!" Mickey blurted, his eyes wide. "Careful! That could be cursed!"

"I don't know," she said, adjusting the shoulders. "It seems okay. Apart from smelling like ass."

"I thought he was a goat," Mickey said, his brows furrowed.

Belle put her face in a hand and rubbed her eyes. "Right."

[Mickey Mouse]

Pre-F2F with Sasuke, Orihime, Victor, Trunks, and Amaterasu

Death. Such an ugly word. Mickey made a point not to associate with the concept; it made him feel queasy in his stomach just thinking about it. Vivid memories rushed back to him of the pig man and Gilgamesh ripping Erza apart with their dragons, or of the sinking feeling that washed over his body when Karl Jak had announced Samus’s name among the dead. Following Dante’s Abyss, he had tried his best to steer clear of death whenever possible—he’d only ever killed once, on accident, and he wasn’t about to repeat that.

Of course, letting death hang over him like a big dark cloud in the Omniverse probably wasn’t incredibly necessary—as far as Mickey knew, unless you got banished, dying was temporary. There was a certain amount of safety living here, if you could be comfortable in immortality. Death was impermanent. That took out some of the sting—or it should have—right?

And yet, his heart still dropped when he laid eyes on her.

“No.” That was the first word that escaped the mouse’s mouth. A blanket denial of whatever he was seeing. A moment passed as he stared at Belle’s crumpled, broken form, still clutching the Shield of Perseus. And then he broke into a sprint. “No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered as he ran, sliding down onto his knees next to her.

He pushed her onto her back, placing a gloved hand on her neck and feeling for a pulse. Nothing—but maybe it was just hard to feel there. He leaned down, pressing an ear to the redheaded girl’s chest.

No heartbeat. No breath. No anything.

“Wake up,” he pleaded, overlarge fingers wrapping around her shoulders as Mickey tried to shake the life back into her. “Wake up, dammit,” he cursed in desperation, shaking and shaking and shaking until he was afraid he might rattle her brain if he shook her anymore. That is, if the litany of head injuries she’d suffered hadn’t done that already. Blank eyes stared up at him. A bitter acceptance washed over the mouse as he reached up and shut her eyelids.

She was dead. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. Tears welled up inside his tired eyes as he lifted her up and slung her haphazardly over his shoulder. She might have been a small girl, but relative to him, she was unwieldy. He picked up the Shield of Perseus and began to drag it along behind him.

He’d failed her. Just like Erza. Could he ever make sure they would be safe? Or would they still die no matter how much he worked to save them?

Back to Blues, he supposed. To finish this nightmare.

Post-Warlock Battle

“…is it over?” Mickey spoke up first.

The prime with the music gun, Crowley, held Teucer’s helmet in his hands, the disintegrated body of the Warlock at his feet. So that was that, then. The man had literally been transformed into dust.

Mickey let out a deep, relieved sigh, and crumpled against Belle. The two of them had been tossed out of the main conflict near the battle’s end, landing together just outside of the goat-like man’s range. Before they’d had a chance to get back up, the purple-haired prime and Crowley had managed to subdue the Warlock for good. Now, all that remained of the evil magician had begun to be swept up by the wind.

“Comfy?” the mouse asked his friend.

“Kind of,” she answered. Mickey didn’t think this entire situation could’ve been described any more accurately than in that brief exchange.

Belle wrapped her thin arms around Mickey, pulling him close. The mouse’s ear pressed against her chest, this time he could hear her heart beating loudly and quickly. The rapid percussion was a welcome sound, and it forced a smile onto the King’s dirtied face. Finally, after almost five days of relentless battle, they could return the relics to Teucer and go home. Well, back to the Omniverse proper, anyway—back to his quest to find his way back home.

Where would he go, anyway? He supposed a trip to Ambrosia was in order. Reuniting himself with Minnie would be the natural course of action. He’d been gone so long, and now that he’d been out of reach even through his communicator or over the Dataverse for several weeks—between the Battle of Nippur and this excursion into what seemed to be something of a Hero’s Graveyard—she would undoubtedly be even more worried about him than normal, if that was even possible. Yeah, it seemed like the best idea would be to make his way back to the Clubhouse and let her know he and Blues were safe and sound.

Something pulled him away, though. A nagging feeling that tugged at the back of his brain that maybe, his work in Nippur wasn’t quite done. He and Blues had slipped out unnoticed in the aftermath of the battle, but something told him his work in the desert city wasn’t done. After all, most of the people who lived there were innocents; merely normal citizens, who lived under Gilgamesh’s thumb and now had no direction and no leader to show them how to go.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of Belle sliding out from beneath him. In the silence, Blues and Link had made their way over to the pair, and had taken seats on either side. Without a word, the redheaded girl marched over to where the Warlock had disintegrated and began ripping sections of his robes away.

“…what’s she doing?” the Hylian asked, leaning over to the mouse.

“I… I’m not sure,” Mickey responded honestly. He moved up onto his knees, trying to get a better look at what his companion was up to. Briefly, he shared a confused glance with Link, and in that moment decided that despite all the trouble they’d gotten into early in the game, this boy was someone that Mickey could count on. That he could trust. He liked knowing that, now—too few people in the Omniverse were trustworthy. He needed to hang on to as many good ones as he could.

Belle, meanwhile, had begun to make her way over to the blue-haired man (who looked rather worse for wear) and his friend, who now cradled him on the ground, the Helmet just a little ways away. They exchanged a few words, but the trio of boys couldn’t hear any of them.

“What’s she saying?” Blues asked.

“I dunno,” Mickey shrugged.

“Listen!” Link waved an arm, leaning forward.

Their most spitfire companion snarked at Crowley, and then made her way over to the Warlock’s ruins again and picked up the rest of his clothes. Mickey’s evil senses began to tingle, but nothing happened, so he remained silent.

Moments later, she’d returned to them and begun ripping off what remained of her shirt. Mickey reddened almost immediately and turned around; Blues did the same, and after some prodding, so did Link. When they had permission again to look, Belle wore the Warlock’s clothes as a sort of dress that, apparently, served its purpose but—to quote the girl—“smelled like ass.”

“I thought he was a goat.”

“Right.”

Mickey rose to his feet, grabbing the Shield of Perseus and holding it out for examination. A quick glance around and a little bit of thought led Mickey to believe that t the relics were all accounted for. The sword remained with the redhead who’d tried to best them for the defibrillator and then again, later, with the ninja he’d fought at the end of Dante’s Abyss. Crowley had two of them, Teucer’s helmet and his greaves. And then, in their company, the shield, a pair of bracers, and a breastplate which Link wore over his emerald-green tunic.

“So what now?” Link asked, glancing around.

“We get this shit back to Teucer,” Belle answered curtly, crossing her arms and looking around their surroundings. “Back to the temple, I guess.”

“Yea,” Blues nodded, “That seems like the best course of action. Maybe once we get everything safely back to him, he’ll send us home.” Mickey once again cringed a little bit at the word choice—home wasn’t anywhere in the Omniverse, but he supposed heading back to the Dunes was better than staying on this island any longer. The place was literally coming apart at the seams.

“Alright,” Mickey Mouse said, “Then let’s get going, right?” The group took a deep breath—yep, off to the Temple. That should be their next goal.

“Hey everyone!” Mickey called to the group of primes scattered across the site of the final battle. “We’re gonna go give this stuff back to Teucer, okay? Come with us if you want!” He smiled, waving an ungloved hand at the group and then spinning around and beginning to march toward the cave’s eastern entrance, his trio of companions not far behind.

“Hey, you guys,” Link spoke up from the back of the group, “Thanks for letting me join you all, back there.”

“No prob,” Mickey grinned, and turning back, “It’s hard to find friends in this rotten place, I know—we’ve got your back, pal!” Blues and Belle nodded in agreement.

“Besides, you’re the Hero of Time,” Belle added, “you’re, like, super cool.”

Link quickened his stride so he was next to Mickey, and leaned over into the mouse’s ear. “…does this happen a lot?”

The mouse’s brow furrowed. “I mean, sorta,” he squeaked, “I’ve had some people say some weird stuff to me before like she does. But nothing as extreme as that stuff she said to you! Honestly, I think the head injuries are just making her a little loco if you know what I mean! Play, Boy said to watch out for that.”

“Loco?” Link questioned.

“¿No hablas español?” Mickey chuckled. “Crazy! Means she’s crazy.”

“I’m right here, assholes,” Belle scowled behind them. “Whispering doesn’t work when you’re like four steps in front of me.”

“Sorry!”

[Minato Namikaze]

Well, that was that. The last of the guardians had been defeated, and the last of Teucer's armor had been retrieved. The battle was over, and his time on this island was coming to an end.

Minato lay, face up, on the ground at the cave's entrance. The blast from his weapon was powerful and, with the stunt he pulled, he didn't exactly give himself time to brace for the recoil. But he had finally been able to do something for the trapped spirit, he'd finally made some sort of headway towards his promise.

Kakashi slid to a sop next to his blonde companion, a somewhat worried, yet unsurprised look, on his face. 'You okay, Minato-sensei?' The silver haired man asked.

'Hey, I was impaled by the Nine Tails. I think I can survive a couple of cuts and bruises.' The blonde shinobi replied, making light of his situation. Kakash let out a short laugh

'So… What do we do now?' Kakashi asked, sincerity in his words and, to be honest, Minato hadn't given it much thought past the conversation they had the other day. He had duties in the ninja village of Mokugakure. He'd promised Tsunade that he'd stick around, but he couldn't say the same for his companion. By some stroke of luck, he and Kakashi had been reunited for the first time in years, probably, but he knew that Kakashi probably had other things to take care of.

'I…' He began, gathering his words as he sat up. 'I have to go back to Mokugakure.' Kakashi looked at him, Minato was never quite sure of the facial expressions that his apprentice made, but this time he could only imagine a smile sitting under the mask.

'Good. We'll go back there together then.' Kakashi replied. 'Besides, I'd like to meet this Kito that you speak so fondly of.'

Minato nodded as he noticed a group of four people approaching the cavern's opening, and the two ninja that sat beside it. A girl with red hair was wearing the tattered and torn robes of their previous enemy, a small anthropomorphic mouse, what appeared to be some sort of man with robotic parts, and a boy that was clad in green clothing. The latter was also wearing what appeared to be a metal breast plate.

The group looked at the two injured men, almost taking no notice of the two. It was a harsh response, but the war hardened shinobi understood their situation. After days on this island, after dozens of potential fights, the primes here would have grown weary of anyone that wasn't a part of their own group.

'Hey.' Minato spoke up, halting them as they passed by them. They gave the two men a cautious look. 'Are you guys headed back to the Temple?' Minato smiled, the warmth returning to his face. They took a moment to look at each other, speaking yet not making a sound as they decided on an answer.

'Yes, we are.' The small mouse-like creature spoke kindly as he stepped forward. Minato sighed, relief in his breath, but pain in the wound on his back.

'We'd like to come along.' He uttered, unsure if they would accept the two, as he pushed himself up and onto his feet. He stumbled for a second, the recoil from his weapon had caused a slight numbness in his limbs, but it would pass soon. Kakashi stood next to him, backing up his proposal.

The group took another second to think about it, before the mouse stepped forward again. 'Sure, we could use some more allies.' He spoke with an accepting voice, relieving Minato of the worry that he held. He knew they would not betray the two ninja.

'Let's go!' The small mouse half exclaimed as the new group trudged out of the cave.

'Is it just me, or did we forget to introduce ourselves?' Kakashi whispered as he leaned towards Minato.

'We'll do that later.' Minato whispered back.

It had been a long morning.

[Kakashi Hatake]

It was over.

The pile of ash that once comprised the body of the all-powerful warlock now sat inert, stray particles slowly drifted toward the ground in the cave’s nigh-stagnant air. Silence had settled over the arena as the heroes assessed and recouped.

Kakashi stared for a long moment at the warlock’s remains before breathing a sigh of relief as he allowed his chakra to return to normal flow. He was feeling a bit worse for wear, the constant battery on his chakra network exponentially increasing his fatigue. Still, he hardly had room to complain. Those that had not outright died during the battle were quite near the ends of their respective ropes. Notwithstanding the pain he felt throughout his body, he would carry on.

Ever the diplomat, Minato had struck up a tenuous friendship with another group of stalwart heroes, a bunch that at least appeared to be friendly. The smallest of the heroes seemed refreshingly kind despite the trials the past few days had entailed. His compatriots regarded the shinobi duo with what could best be described as dubious trust. At this point, however, the scarecrow would take cautious glances over a bloody free-for-all. They no doubt wanted to protect Teucer’s relics, though it was hard to turn down the Fourth Hokage’s boundless optimism.

“Let’s go!”

As if in anticipation of foul play, the other members of the group fell back, sequestering the gold and silver shinobi smack in the middle. Watching each other’s flank, Kakashi mused. He could hardly blame them. “Is it just me,” he muttered to his partner, “or did we forget to introduce ourselves?”

“We’ll do that later,” Minato responded, winking.

Before Kakashi could consider the comment, the female of the group spoke up. “So, who are you boys?” she inquired from behind, pulling the ratty warlock’s cloak tighter around her abdomen. The garment looked positively filthy; Kakashi could only assume she had a good reason to wear such garb.

“My name is Minato, and this is Kakashi,” the blonde Hokage piped up immediately. “I’m glad we finally met someone who doesn’t want to kill us.”

“Do us the same courtesy and we’ll get along,” a red-armored lad replied wearily. Kakashi could feel the boy sizing them up from behind his dark glasses. “I’m Blues.”

“Link,” the green-tunicked teen offered, nodding politely.

“I’m Mickey,” the anthropomorphic rodent said, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “And this is my pal Belle,” he finished, gesturing toward the redhead, who nodded in acknowledgement.

A few seconds of silence. “So, back to Teucer then?” Minato inquired, rubbing his shoulder gingerly. No doubt one of the many injuries he had incurred, courtesy of the warlock.

“Yup,” Blues answered, crossing his arms. “Not much else to do.”

“Not looking forward to what happens when we get there,” Belle stated flatly, shaking her head.

Kakashi cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“The Relics,” Link answered. “Whoever returns all six is entitled to keep one. I imagine a fair few will want that reward.”

The sharingan-wielder sighed. He’d forgotten that small detail. “Maybe this can be settled without more bloodshed?” he asked hopefully.

Silence followed.

[Proto Man]

After so many days of just trying to survive, it was strange to realize just how close they were to the end of the tunnel. With the demise of the Warlock, the last of Teucer’s relics had been liberated from the grasp of the island’s various monstrosities. Even though the sun was barely just escaping from the flats of the horizon, Proto Man was starting to feel a little better about the situation.

The death of the Warlock certainly would start to unravel whatever fel designs had been placed upon the primes sent to his place. For now, the machine felt just as tired, cold, and miserable as he had since he’d first been dumped into the ocean surrounding the island. Proto Man looked forward to feeling like himself again. At this point, he longed for the shadow of humanity he’d grown up with—anything was preferable to all these feelings. If he could go a lifetime without every experiencing the mixture of madness and grief he felt at the sight of Belle’s lifeless corpse, he would die a happy machine.

The cave they were in was dank and smelled faintly of methane, blood, and burning fabric. Despite the fact that most of the people still alive had at one point tried to kill one another, no one made any moves. Even Belle’s killer offered the woman some short words before turning back to his wounded ally. A quick look at the chainsaw-wielding man revealed that he wasn’t long for this world.

“I’m sorry,” Proto Man muttered to himself as he turned his gaze to the ground in front of him. While he wouldn’t forgive ‘Magus’ for trying to saw off his limbs with a chainsaw, the android wasn’t about to waltz over there and shout at someone bleeding to death. Whoever he was, the grizzled warrior would have to face his own demons soon enough. That though would have to be enough to satisfy the throbbing wound in Proto Man’s right leg.

In the far corner of the room, the ninja and the redhead were licking their own wounds. The machine knew that Sasuke Uchiha was a confidante of Gilgamesh. He knew that the two had been loose associates in Dante’s Abyss, and beyond that, there was nothing that would erase the image of the ninja killing Samus near the end of the event.

Justice will find you someday.

The purple-haired fighter sat sullen, and as he stared, Proto Man remembered that the young man had lost his female companion to the terrible might of the Warlock. Had the pair been friends long or had the event pulled them together? Part of him wanted to go and offer the man some kind words, but the last time Proto Man had crossed paths with the gun-totting fighter, there had been grenades and bullets involved.

In another section of the cave, Desco and the young girl were talking softly amongst themselves. Proto Man knew the demon—Desco was a friend of Guu, who was herself a wonderful person—but he refrained from approaching them either. Even with the Warlock dead, there was still too much tension in the air. There were too many people with paranoia in their eyes and memories of past scuffles fresh in their minds.

The machine was more than happy when Mickey decided their course of action. With his characteristic exuberance, the mouse announced that they were going to return to Teucer, even though Proto Man was one hundred percent sure that his best friend had zero ideas about how to escape the crumbling island.

Although every part of his body hurt in some way, the red robot held his chin high as he lurched after his companions.

On their way out, Mickey and Link had a quick exchange in Mireya-speak, which caused Proto Man to chuckle. He wasn’t aware that there was an entire language behind the half-night elf’s intermittent outburst. He just assumed that stuff like maricon, puta, ‘vete a la verga culero’ was the woman’s own creations, but when Mickey spoke, he had the smallest fragments of Mireya’s accent.

Proto Man was about to ask Mickey if he could understand some other pieces of Mireya-speak, but before he had a chance, the quartet were joined by a pair of ninjas with spiked hair and their own share of scrapes and bruises. After introductions by Kakashi and Minato, the six primes started off from the warlock’s crypt. With any luck, they could find some way to get back to the temple before Teucer got too worried about their predicament.

Once they had the Spirit reunited with his relics, they could all return to their friends in the Omniverse proper.

[Magus]

“Thank you, Crowley,” he said, looking up at the demon-creature who had helped him tend to his wounds. Together, they’d made the token gesture of bandaging the grievous injuries, even though they both knew it would do little more than make him a little more presentable. “Would you help me up, please?”

The wizard raised a bloodied hand, which Crowley grasped and, in spite of the fierce paroxysm of pain that burned through him as a result, Crowley hoisted the broken magister to his feet. Magus steadied himself for a moment, his hands on Crowley’s shoulders, before stepping back.

“Crowley, in the event that the differences between Teucer’s realm and the Omniverse are greater than we think, and that death isn’t impermanent here as it is there, I feel as I should be honest with you before I am faced with my own inevitability.”

“Oh, come on. Just walk it off. It’s only a flesh wound. Insert additional meaningless platitudes for only one dollar each.”

“I… expect you to be guarded with this information, especially if I happen to resurrect after my passing, but my name isn’t ‘Magus’.”

“No shit. Well, if we’re being honest with each other, you should know that I’m not actually the Chief Balcony Inspector for the Pope.”

Magus stifled a sigh. Partly because he figured it’d hurt. “My name is Janus Zeal. In actual fact, that name likely doesn’t mean anything here, but I have had to spend a lifetime hiding my identity from allies and enemies alike. Maybe it won’t matter anymore.”

The bloody wizard shambled, chainsaw still in hand, blade dragging along the ground, over to the mouth of the cave where the group that was responsible for Kopaka’s death had gathered. Immediately, the armored one and the turncoat each adopted aggressive postures, but Magus didn’t relent until he was hardly inches from the girl who had provided him with the makeshift bandages he now wore.

“I’d like to think we’re done killing each other,” Magus began. He hefted the chainsaw before dropping it at Belle’s feet. “Either way, I won’t be needing my weapon anymore. And yours is garbage.”

“Well, it’s gotten me this far-”

“Do what you will,” the Fiendlord interrupted, and then motioned to Crowley, who’d hung back in the cave. “He’s strong. And he made no deals with Kopaka. You can trust him-”

“Rich, coming from someone who’s been hunting me since the beginning,” the Mouse retorted.

“And I’m not done hunting you, either,” came Magus’ reply, causing the anthropomorphic creature’s brow to furrow deeply. “Kopaka died trying to hold up his end of our bargain; I am honor-bound to uphold mine. If I come back from the grave, I’ll see you again soon, Mouse.”

Magus stepped past them, having neither the energy nor the inclination to keep talking. He didn’t take the path that the others would. Instead, he struck his own path into the thick of the jungle, and didn’t stop walking until his legs gave out beneath him and he fell to his knees.

He felt regret.

A sudden pang of remorse ruined the morose beauty that had enveloped him. He crinkled his nose in disgust.

“I’ve not given up, Schala. I’ll come back. I’ll keep looking,” he said, though the ice in his veins betrayed his certainty. He wouldn’t stop. Damn these cretins. Their interference might have gone a long way to prolonging her suffering.

He was far from the others now, and this was good. He’d hoped to die in battle, but dying here, on his own terms, surrounded by the beauty of the jungle, that would suffice. He took in his surroundings as much as he could.

Birds huddled together in the trees above, sheltered from the storm. Leaves swayed and shivered. Insects scurried between puddles and drops of rain. The Magus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the warbles of birds and constant pattering of rain over the deep basso rumbles of distant thunder, punctuated with harsh bangs of elemental anger.

The lilting soundtrack blotted out all his thoughts and fears, and his chin sank to his chest. He felt the rain wash over him, running down his neck and shoulders, dripping from his hair, scouring away the dirt and gore of the arduous days they had spent on the island.

He took another breath, and the world fell away.

[Ada Wong]

During the Warlock Challenge, because I couldn’t help myself.

Splinters of rock as sharp as crystal glass exploded in whichever direction the ghastly Warlock chose. Fireballs and blazing bursts of energy cut dark smoking trails through the air, odious darkness mingling with the groans and sighs of the wounded and undead.

Light on his feet despite the weight of his gun, Crowley dashed hither and thither amid the smoke, doing his best to dodge most fiery blasts and all the while attempting to ascertain the direction they were hurtling out from. His yellow eyes narrowed, the rank stench of another demon burning like vinegar under his nose. Posturing and the frazzled, slightly-singed state of his appearance momentarily forgotten, Crowley ducked around the fragmented outskirts of the battle, searching for an opening.

Aka Manah soared and wheeled about like a corkscrew, taking obvious delight in punishing the bold group of primes who would dare challenge him. With wild abandon, he flung gust after gust of fiery mojo about the cavern, each one striking the ground with the booming severity of thunderbolts. The curved horns of his skull angled beside his grinning, fanged maw, twin pinpricks of malicious reddish-yellow intensity weaving in and out of his eye sockets, becoming mere blurs of color as he was swept up into the intoxicating fire of fight.

During a split-second lull in Aka’s frequently discharged defensive maneuvers, the ram-headed demonic thing alighted upon an outcropping of rock set at an unnatural angle. As Crowley observed from afar, his gun humming discordantly in his hands and sending cascading echoes of sound ringing about the crater-like cavern, a woman garbed in a celestial white robe sacrificed herself for the sake of her comrade. It was apparently all for naught, however, as the Warlock readied a new plume of unholy torture to inflict upon the one she had saved.

Crowley’s eyes flickered to the woman’s body, broken, tattered, and utterly lifeless, torn asunder like a piece of parchment and bleeding ink around the edges of her oddly strewn limbs. He then scanned the others scattered all about the chamber, struggling to return to the fight with renewed strength, searching for a reason not to give up.

He could feel rather than see the meteor plunging towards them from above, as final as the callously sharp and glinting blade of a guillotine. Steeling himself for the shuddering recoil, Crowley exhaled, took aim, and fired.

Post-Warlock challenge.

That…. was that it?

Crowley looked at the helmet, then at the place where the demonic goat had been standing only a few moments before, attempting to destroy them all. It was an awful lot to take in, and all of these relics were a bit hard to juggle along with his bulky weapon. Maybe Magus could—

Magus. “Magus!”

Clutching the helmet and greaves to his chest much in the same way that a mother baboon carries her young (a rather unflattering comparison), Crowley clambered over towards where he had last glimpsed the mage striving to hold his own. He wasn’t made to look for long, for he soon caught sight of a suitably exasperated and even more grievously wounded Magus attempting to lift himself from a pile of sizzling rubble.

“Magus!” Crowley exclaimed, nearly bounding as he arrived within his wounded ally’s sights. He virtually crammed the helmet into his face, grinning delightedly over its gleaming helm. “Look at this! That Warlock can rest in pieces for all— hey, you don’t…. look very good. Magus?”

He scrambled to find some support for the guy, even attempting to position the greaves into a rough crutch, but not much seemed to be helping. By the end of Crowley’s frantic mother-henning and Magus’ putting up with it, a shiny streak of sweat dotted the wizard’s brow.

It was around this time that a young woman with red hair approached, although you really could never tell age with some humans. She seemed nauseated just standing within a few feet of the pair, wringing her hands together and giving off a whole battalion of uneasy signals. Crowley was about to ask what her issue was, standing around like that, when it hit him.

He had killed this girl. Killed her and then vamoosed the hell out of there. No wonder she was upset.

They exchanged a few words, each feeling rather tense and strung out along a treacherously thin threshold, but by the end of their discussion Crowley felt a little… lighter. Legend tells that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day, yaddayaddayadda. He was quite glad to get that over with.

Crowley helped Magus to his feet; it was painfully obvious that the wizard wouldn’t last much longer, and the human-shaped demon’s eyebrows knit themselves together in concern. They spoke, briefly, with Crowley contributing a grand array of incomprehensible mutterings to the conversation, and then Magus went and revealed to him his true name.

Now, Crowley understood the importance of a True Name. His own was nothing more than a collection of harsh syllables and questionable hissing. It wasn’t much of a question that he wouldn’t reveal it to anyone, because even demons harbored some propriety when it came to such things.

As they drew up with the rest of those who had fought against the Warlock, Crowley chose to hang a ways back while Magus did all the talking. He didn’t trust his uncanny ability to smooze others with that lot, anyway, and so much of his time was spent half-listening and toying idly with the relics he had secured.

He looked up, feeling a mite jumpy. Well, there went Magus. Wandering off into the wilderness, probably to join a herd of wild Mageese. Perhaps he would settle down, raise a family, and graze on clods of meadow grass. Crowley watched him go, wondering just why he was putting himself through this bizarre inner torture of inventing endless positive scenarios when the crippling reality of it all hobbled off over the sunset, right before his very eyes.

The demon visibly grimaced. His gun hooted and hollered something about milkshakes and bringing boys to the yard, and honestly he was beginning to feel a little let down by the entire situation. All Crowley wanted to do right then was curl up on his lounge chair, drink an entire liquor store, and then sleep for half a century.

He glanced at the goody two-shoes crowd, the whole flock of them staring back in an understandably judgmental way. Suddenly, he wished desperately to have his sunglasses back.

"Er... hey?"

[Ururu Kyuuei]

“Well spirit? Is this what you wanted?” Ururu yelled out, attracting no doubt a lot of more attention than she had ever had in life. She didn’t care though. All the adrenaline in her system was pushing her towards the one thing she needed.

No response beyond distant muttering

“We killed your captor, unleashed you ‘relics’ so where the fuck are you?” Ururu questioned before snarling, “Give me my family back!”

Only a dead wind came as a reply. Nothing.

Blood was pounding in her ears; her lungs only drew in stale air. Too many people in too confined of a space. And this world was collapsing. Everything was pushing them to an inevitable end; one Ururu could all too easily believe. A human’s final solution.

She had done everything she could, learned everything about this place. Saw the Warlock put down. Though the dark place inside her wanted to have been the one to do it. Instead someone else did it, which left her only one real goal now; see that Teucer gave back her family. She was in good enough condition that her body only felt like it had been run over by a few horses but no worse for wear otherwise. She could still make demands if need be force the ghost… someway… somehow… to listen to her.

“Desco thinks Ururu needs a vacation.” Desco said wearily as she wandered in from another portion of the cave.

That comment earned the monster girl a snort from Ururu. It was a mass understatement to say the least. “I think we both need one,” Ururu replied

Desco shook herself bodily, “Desco is ready for round two!” Which Ururu couldn’t help but note didn’t seem nearly as upbeat as the young girl usually had been.

“Of course you are, still a vacation sounds good” Ururu giggled despite the pain that lanced through her body.

With a grin Desco nodded, “Then we’ll summon some prinnies will make Desco and Ururu a large feast!”

As the last of the chakra cloak dissipated from her, Ururu felt the weight of the last five days slide over her like a lead blanket. More to the point though she could feel the eyes of everyone around her as well. The people she had led here, though only a few were focused on her, all seemed vying for another fight; or if not all, at least most of them. The tension and anger were there.

“Come on let’s get out of here before this place caves in.” Ururu whispered with a sideways glance.

Desco jumped and began looking erratically at the walls spotting what Ururu was naturally inclined to do. The damage to battlefield was significant and stress fractures were forming in every direction. The sound alone while subtle was extremely telling to anyone who had ever worked with moving earth as a profession. The signs were there and were strongest where basalt gave way to other rocks. That one sulfur-iron vein that cut through the ceiling especially had her worried.

Straightening her backpack, which thankfully her chakra cloak had protected, Ururu led Desco out of the cave quickly along the edges of the group where they were greeted by mostly fresh air. The smell of ozone though was pervasive. But really caught her senses was the distant distinct view of the two Hokage that she first seen.

If anyone they could potentially trust, it was them. Well as far as Ururu would trust any ninja from her world. She had identified herself a member of their village though and that had to account for something.

“Looks like luck might just be with us.” Ururu said, moving to follow.

“Desco is the final boss; Ururu and Desco don’t need luck!”

[Schwi Dola]

Before Ururu's post

They defeated the warlock. It was perhaps no small task but it felt very easy to Desco. This time coming out of a fight against him Desco had only superficial injuries added to her injuries list. The gash on her octorabbit Yogsothoth had started to heal though it was far from recovered. Her shoulders and back still ached It was getting annoying, Desco really needed to ask daddy before to give her advanced cellular regeneration so that these things would be minor inconveniences. As a demon in Hades and as a test tube experiment in daddy's lab she had experienced far worse but she did not like to feel the pain constantly. Daddy's fix for that wasn't working either.

Desco started to move about the temple looking for Ururu. She wondered what was going to happen now. They had lost their artifact when Dante died but it seemed they were still distributed to different people. The prize was won by having all of them and there was still time to put up a fight and wrest control of them all. That hero was the rainbow box was still alive as were those two ninja minion's of Ururu's and right there was that guy that had won DA. He was here? Desco didn't know that, maybe it wasn't him. Desco had never actually met Sasuke and while Ururu had pointed out a Sasuke when they first arrived it wasn't an uncommon name. Desco had easily forgotten it with the events at hand.

Desco found Ururu tending to her new wounds. "We beat the Warlock!" "Yea, we did." Ururu seemed somewhat relieved but something was still bothering her. Desco figured that it had something to do with Hikaru, but she wasn't exactly good at figuring out these things. Desco had a bad track record with figuring out Big Sis though Desco didn't know that. "Everyone is regrouping, considering what to do. I bet some of those bastards are going to betray their allies." Desco nodded, "Some of them probably think they are heroes but they will have to slaughter everyone else in cold blood to get the treasure, like demons! Survival of the fittest!"

Desco didn't want to betray Ururu though. While it was demonic to do such things Desco learned a lot about friendship in Hades and here in the Omniverse. Breaking it was a lot like breaking a promise and her sensei in things 'Final Boss' Mr. Valzy had always preached the ideals of a noble demon. A final boss had to be a cut above the average low life demon. Desco wanted to be like big bro Valzy. However he never taught Desco what to do when two promises contested each-other. She had promised herself and to big sis that wasn't here that she would get stronger to reunite with her. Betraying Ururu could help Desco achieve that goal, but would she do it, break other promises for big sis?

[Red]

The Warlock keeled over, wrapping his arms around the fresh cavity in his chest. He gurgled profusely as his soul regurgitated out from his fatal wound, billowing through the crevices between his arms in the form of blue fumes. The warlock fell to his knees. What was left of him—just a hollow shell—tardily crumbled into a rounded pyramid of ash. As his head disintegrated, the final relic dropped into the pile the dust of his remains, sinking into the pyramid with an inaudible splash. The blue fumes of his soul paused, and levitated in place, as if glaring at the reapers of his life. Then it warped, and shot into the bowels of the cave.

The suited demon snatched the gold-plated helmet from the dusty remains of the warlock, and rushed back over to his only remaining compadre, boasting about the newest accessory to his ensemble. But his exuberant visage soon slumped, grief-stricken as he realized his friend's status—by the swordsman's look of it, the Kai-looking fellow only had a few dozen breaths left in him.

Trunks related to the demon man's pain. He was in that same frame of feeling not too long ago, when he scurried in a frenzy, searching for Ammy. That heart-thumping feeling, which he assumed felt much like cardiac arrest; while its occurring, your ears mute your surroundings, and all you're left with is the sounds of your heartbeat rapidly echoing, and hysteria running laps in your mind. A part of him sent his remorse.

He turned his sights to Ammy. Her body laid lifelessly, top-half bathed by the morning sun. While the Warlock's soul traveled out the top of the cave, Trunks was sure Ammy's soul would transverse to the sun, and to whatever lay beyond it. Thank you for your sacrifice, he said. I am indebted to you. Tears began to muster up in his eyes, but he clasped his lids shut; enough of those were shed earlier, and the swordsman refused to weep while in the presence of others.

He hoped this meant the end—he hoped it meant Teucer would finally liberate him from the island, no strings attached—but kept the wishful thinking nullified. The suspicion he held towards the Spirit still lingered like a chest cold, and the swordsman could cough out a handful of rebuttals to anyone who tried to counter his assumptions. The pessimist inside of him doubted this was the end. If it were, why didn't Teucer magically teleport everyone back to the temple—did he not want his precious relics?

Trunks surveyed how many people survived the battle. The two-toned mouse's squad lived—all of them, including the woman recently brought back from the dead—, and appeared to have high moral while conversing with the duo of wild-haired men; the adolescent survived, along with the woman carrying the octopus creature; though the demon man's partner wasn't going to last much longer, he himself seemed to get by without sustaining any further injuries.

He gritted his teeth.

The swordsman took note of where his rifle laid—if he were the center of a clock, his firearm would have been at ten o'clock—and cautiously walked towards it, never pulling his eyes from the crowd.

He'd be damned if Tuecer--or anyone--caught him off-guard.

[Orihime Inoue]

A half a second later and she noticed the cartoon gloved fist of the brute above her eyes. Time froze, she gathered herself and realized pain and her were about to become far more acquainted. Shocked, like electricity, she thought she had been in a deep sleep.

She didn’t know where she was, only that she continued to fall on her back, head first, down on something that made a splash sound. Perhaps she had fallen off a cliffside and landed on the edge of where the ocean meets sand. The powerful roar of waves crashing against rocks masked what appeared to be someone chuckling off in the distance. Not aware of where the sound was coming from, Orihime struggled to sit up.

Blood stained hair fell down Orihime’s face as she turned and saw people looking at her. A girl in red asked her if she was alright, and she managed to nod her head, quietly grunting her response. It took her several seconds until after she answered to understand that the red was blood, the color of violence. If in order to save someone, you had to kill someone, are you really saving anyone? her thought echoed inside her cloudy mind.

Orihime told the injured girl that she wasn’t hurt and that she still had the strength to fight. With much difficulty, she was able to find her footing against the crushed gravel. Her eyes never leaving the ground, she noted the substantial puddle of blood she had been standing in. There was so much blood that it pooled and fell off the edge of some of the crumbling landscape like a waterfall. The world felt odd, but she couldn’t place it. What happened? Orihime wondered while she struggled to put the pieces together from before the ambush. Internally perplexed on how they were able to find them and even worse, guilty that she may have led the enemy right to them.

Another question, where was the hero sword? With heavy eyelids, the dazed girl looked around the crash site for the life-saving relic. Luckily, it laid only inches away from her, slightly sunken into the blood-soaked mud, within Orihime’s grasp. As she held her sword up into the star filled sky, the moon illuminated the blood stained metal and cast a dark shadow across her face.
The once magnificent sword’s hilt felt comfortably familiar to Orihime, like she had been its wielder for many millenniums. No wonder the warlock went to such great lengths to protect this precious relic. How she was still fortunate to possess such an incredible weapon, Orihime did not know.

Then the pain started, it felt like someone hit her in the head. It made her dizzy and she couldn’t find the ground. Orihime was standing on the ground but she felt as if she was on a piece land breaking free from the island, any second about to tumble into the devouring black sea below. Almost throwing up, she fell to her dirt covered knee.

After again forgetting where she was, she stayed perfectly still while blood dropped from her ears to the dirt. Very lost and confused, Orihime closed her eyes and held the ground with both hands. Knowing the ground existed was a good comfort for her. Then her head started to vibrate so hard she thought it might fall off. Looking back to the girl, Orihime noticed that she laid still with the same empty expression as the others, she panicked when realized she was all alone. “The others, what about the others?” Orihime struggled to speak with only a pained gurgling sounds coming out instead.

Orihime forced herself to her feet with the rest of her will power and made her way towards the calamity of voices ahead of her. Even though she felt more confident with the sword in her possession, the weight was cumbersome to carry on her shoulder. Unfortunately for Orihime, she kept getting sicker and sicker every step she took. People talking made her nervous as she found it difficult to hold her sword. Was it a friend or foe? How could she know when she couldn’t see through the dizzy blur outside a 4-foot radius? The world got cloudy past her arm and the noise of the predatory early morning didn’t help with the confusion.

A voice cut through all the wilderness with clarity, and it was friendly and familiar. “I can’t tell you how much I owe you.” she heard the voice of the warrior who helped her once before. What was he doing here? she wondered to herself while using her sword to steady herself by wedging it in between crumbling rocks.

No surprise to Orihime, Sasuke was here, if anyone was to survive such a violent assault it was him. How did he know of the oncoming attack moments before it happened? Orihime couldn’t come to terms with how it was possible.

The battered and bruised girl’s heart dropped when she saw Victor laying lifelessly, faced down in mounds of blood-drenched mud and broken branches. No. How could Orihime let something like this happen? What was worse was that he had fallen thinking that she had betrayed them all. The smiling face of Victor appeared in her mind which caused her vision to be clouded with tears.

The look of grief and disbelief on her old allies’ face snapped her out of the guilt she was drowning in. Without thinking clearly he wanted to go after the monsters that did this but Orihime and Sasuke knew too well that it would be suicide and he was just letting his anger get the better of him.

While he held on to the girls still body tightly, pleaded with her to wake up, if anything please wake up. Then to his relief, the girl stirred and called out for the warrior by his name, Trunks. While the life began to fade from the poor girl he vowed to fight the evil spirit for her. The malicious warlock that still had control of this place and their fate was still alive, and in fact, Orihime could feel his presence like he was breathing down her neck.

As the sun crept up the sky and over the restless waves of the ocean bloody massacre that happened here was much worse than previously imagined. The crisp, earthy blades of grass were stained in crimson all across the valley in intricate battle patterns. If it was not for all the violence and bloodshed, this morning could have been very pleasant. At any other time, she could imagine coming to the seaside with an old book in one hand and a hot, sweet cinnamon chai tea in the other. The gentle and salty breeze tickling her face, putting her body at ease. Instead of all that, she stood there, her clothes nothing more than shreds of fabric clinging to the most sensitive areas by blood and dirt with a deadly weapon in her hand.
‘
As much as she felt obligated to rid the island of the evil warlock, the world still felt like it was spinning to fast for her eyes to follow. Hitting her like a sack of bricks, exhausting brought her to the moist ground with the relic lying safely in her lap. She couldn't protect the sword if she found herself fighting for life once again.

Going over the events in her mind, she couldn’t come to terms on how she was holding on by the skin of her teeth. Was this whole mission just a sick and twisted game where the winners were predetermined? Was it fate to die here alone on this disappearing island with this sword still holding on it the hilt with the rest of my strength. No, how could her story end this way? From the beginning of this quest when she was torn away from her new found home in the snowy wonderland, grandfather spirit told her that he chose her because he needed heroes. Heroes with honor and valor to free him from this nightmarish land. Orihime thought herself a hero and up until this point she did every action for the good of saving the restless soul.

No matter what happened she wouldn’t let herself forget who she was and what her purpose is. To help others, no matter the cost like Ichigo would. Orihime filled her lungs with the crisp morning air, which smelled of like musty metal and salt. She came to her feet and prepared herself for what was to happen next.

[The Spirit]

FINAL FACE TO FACE
ORIHIME &TRUNKS VS. PROTO MAN, A. J. CROWLEY, URURU, DESCO, MINATO, KAKASHI, MICKEY MOUSE, BELLE & LINK

The group of primes gathered on the path near the temple, their final goal. Every guardian was slain, many friends lost their lives and many foes vanquished. Relics were gathered and battles were fought. The champions were tired, tired of all the fighting, the running, death. For a long time they remained silenced as a large group travelled together towards their final destination within the graveyard verse. Each one reflecting upon what happened.

Belle had a flashback about her first team-up with Mickey, how he explained to her how the survival guide worked. Oh how embarrassed she was, but what a friend he is. Link's mind wandered to the friends he lost, Erik, Yuki, both losing their lives in battle so he could live and be here this very moment, he felt indebted to them. He did not let their deaths be in vain , he was part of the retrieval of Teucer's armor, he succeeded, thanks to them. Ururu walked at the back, with Desco, an ally she wouldn't have expected to get. She recalled their fight with the Warlock, such power, such raw power, she was fascinated with him and his origin. Wondering if there was more to be discovered about both him and Teucer she was hoping to get more background information about it once she returned. Minato walked next to his former sensei Kakashi, how he had grown. This adventure showed him how much his old mentor had grown, still as wise, still as strong. Teucer's game was coming at an end, they would go home soon and the blonde shinobi was determined to get both of them home alive. At the head of the group the fearless fighter proto-man was walking next to his pall Mickey, flashes of their fight with the Cyberdemon came to him clear as day, a horrible sight. Seeing such brutal death from up close really does something with a man, senseless death. His partner placed a white glove on his shoulder, offering him a nod and a smile, that was all it took for Blue to know he will never be alone, he can always count on his friends.

"Don't worry Orihime, our cause is just, our strength wont betray us. We are doing the right thing, these people have no claim to what is ours. We should be the one to set the spirit free, we fought and suffered for it, there is no way we will let them get away with it." Trunks spoke full of courage as he witnessed the group approaching towards the temple, "Stay strong, together we can win." The woman stood strong, sword in one hand, a clenched fist in the other, releasing her inner strength once more she emitted a powerful aura, the determined woman stood by her friend, her ally. Trunks prepared in his own way, he took out his weapon and took aim towards the approaching group of primes, "That's far enough! Hand over your relics, they belong to us, we should be the ones to restore Teucer to his former self, not you, not after everything you've done!"

Proto-man stopped, the primes who were travelling with him gathered next to him. Every single one of them at the ready, seven primes standing beside each other, as a united front they stood strong. Orihime's conviction did not falter, her aura was as powerful as ever, it gave Trunks even more courage to know he had an ally this loyal standing by his side.

"Give it up, we are many, you are but a few. We are done fighting, give us your relic and we will get this over with. We don't want to fight anymore. Just give up." The proud voice of Proto-man spoke towards the Sayian.

The words only made it worse for Trunks, he simply couldn't give up. Within him he started to summon the power for a powerful attack, feeling the Omnilium build up within his body he got ready for his most powerful attack yet. Crowley however looked towards Trunks, wearing the relic he was bringing towards Teucer, making use of the powerful item it made the Sayian feel powerless. The power he was building up vanished. The surprised look on Trunk's face worried Orihime, something happened to her friend and she couldn't see what it was, " That's enough, just stop it, we want this to end just as much as you do." Trunks, who felt like he was under attack reached for his weapon and took aim once more. This time their foes reacted, both ninja's powered up in front of them, Minato showing his powerful sage form, Kakashi next to him released his inner gate and emitted a powerful green aura. Mickey handed one of the earrings towards his most trusted friend Blue, who shook his head, "We won't be needing that, look at them, it would kill them." The mouse nodded and put the earrings back into his pocket.

The purple haired Sayian started to lose patience, something had to happen, NOW! With that he opened fire upon the group which split apart. The two ninja dashed towards Trunks, the former Hokage quickly managed to get behind Trunks, and aimed his weapon. Trunks turned his head and noticed the prime before he got shot, flying through the air like a rag doll. Kakashi, who finished preparing his attack charged the airborne prime, dragging the lightning behind him he jumped up in the air, "Raikiri!" The shinobi shouted as he pushed his lightning hand right through Trunk's chest. The young boy coughed blood as the last thing he saw was the Konoha headband upon Kakashi's head.

Belle, Desco and Ururu charged Orihime who just witnessed another friend losing his life within the sick game of life and death. Desco who couldn't keep up at all started to throw her batarangs from a distance, trying to assist her allies. Tears flowing from Orihime's eyes she focused her grief upon the incoming primes, holding the mighty sword she swung it out of pure desperation, managing to cut Belle once before the young girl got pulled back by Ururu, "Watch out!" A beam of golden energy passed them both and hit Orihime head on, leaving her falling to her knees on the ground. Link walked up, picking up the woman's sword and got ready to end it. From deep within the forest, a Prime witnessed it all, hidden from everyone he simply observed the scene.

"Enough!" Proto-man shouted. "Enough blood has been shed on Teucer's behalf, we got what we came for, spare her life and let's get this over with." Link looked down upon the wounded woman and agreed, this was not his way.

The group all gathered in front of the Temple and glanced upon one another. "Go ahead Blue, go set that Spirit free and send us home." The happy mouse spoke. "It should be you" Belle quickly added. Link stepped up and held up the sword towards Proto-man, " You are a true hero, you had my back out there, now it's time to repay that debt, go with honor."

Blue was a bit surprised as his friends started to hand over the relics. Everyone who had gathered looked at Proto-man with great respect, if there was one person who earned it, it was him. Only Crowley was hesitant, "But I, I've earned this!" and slowly reached for his weapon. He looked around and noticed all the eyes directed at him, clearly this wasn't the best idea. "But, I guess you can set the bastard free." Crowley said, clearly unhappy about it, but he knew he wouldn't stand a chance against all of them.

Proto-man collected all the relics and looked at the group gathered around him, "My friends, thank you for your trust, I will not let you down, we are going home." With those last words he started to climb the steps of the temple, going to finish this once and for all.

[spoiler]Trunks : Dead
Orihime : 4 Damage, she was spared and is laying on the ground heavily wounded Used T1 powerup
Kakashi : 0 Damage used T1 powerup and T1 supermove
Minato: 0 Damage used T1 powerup
Link: 1 Damage from Trunk's barrage of bullets
Ururu: 0 Damage
Proto-man: 0 Damage, recieving all the relics and on his way to the temple chamber
Mickey: 0 Damage, Used T1 Supermove
Desco: 0 Damage
Crowley: 0Damage Used The Helmet
Belle: 2 Damage, a nasty cut on her upper arm when Orihime cut her
PROTO-MAN HAS THE RELICS AND WILL GO INTO TEUCER'S TEMPLE.
WARNING!!! "None of the other contestants have left until Proto Man has decided on the ending.
Final conclusion post will follow[/spoiler]