Demise

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

A bit rough around the edges, as all children are in their own ways, but hardworking, excited about the future. In this modern world, anyone could achieve anything if they simply put their minds to it and their nose to the grindstone.

This was a simple, if childish, notion. Childish in the sense that the world does its best to burn such things out of us.

He'd certainly done his best and worked harder than the others. Yet, others succeeded where he failed. He tried again and did better. Fifth, fourth, even third place, on occasion. But not the best.

Never the best.

Because life isn't fair, and some people are simply more gifted, luckier than others.

He felt so very strongly towards these things, towards success and competition and pride. To his peers and his parents, to school and that bright, bright future. But he could not be the best, and he could not gain the admiration of his peers, and he could not make his parents proud of him, no matter what he did or how hard he tried or how much of himself he poured into these things.

He couldn't do anything right. Not at all. Not this way.

And so, he dove back into his studies, his work, his improvement. Not for others, but for himself. Because that is the only thing that really matters, no? This world is cruel, and uncaring, and the only real way to get ahead, to survive that, is to match it. To understand it on a fundamental level… and to take advantage of it, the same way it takes advantage of you.

He scoffed at those who squandered their opportunities, knowing that he would never do such a thing. He spurned those who abandoned their thoughts for action, wasteful feeling, emotional kindling. He buried that which would distract him, from his own uncomfortable body to the peers that would rather party on the weekends than prepare for their exams. He developed, according to his own words, complex after complex, and he acknowledged his own flaws in an attempt to distance himself through self-awareness.

Selfish.

Others had come and gone, but that word remained constant. There is nothing wrong with being selfish, but in a cruel world, where others prioritized comradery and care as a counter to such an unfeeling existence, he settled for himself.

Make your own advantages. Let others settle for greatness.

Move forward, ever forward. Strive to be superior in your own way.

No matter what, I am better than the person in front of me. And if not, I will be.

And then, one day, he died. It is debatable the fault in such circumstance. The man doing his job, though more callously than perhaps necessary, or the man who'd shoved him, who had only hours before lost everything.

The outcome is the same, but his life did not end. Not in the usual sense.

And in that, everything changed.

She found herself in a new world. A worse world, objectively, and yet a better one.

Having thought herself above such things, she found herself… furious. Upset. After so long, such power in her chest felt foreign, and even if they were negative, she felt them so very strongly.

It was terrifying. It couldn't be allowed to persist, just as before.

As before, she focused on looking after herself. Before anyone else, all that mattered was her own life. All that mattered was surviving this Hell of that wannabe deity's making.

She did many cruel, callous, selfish things in this effort. There's no denying that. She certainly wouldn't, and she had no intention of apologizing for them either. Most of them.

She did many things contrary to this, as well.

Perhaps, she even dropped her guard, just the slightest bit. Against her own will, she… could not remain the same as before. Not entirely. Those meat shields were awfully chatty, and she couldn't bring herself to abandon them so readily as she'd intended.

Years passed. Circumstances changed.

She could feel it, deep down. And as she'd once done a world ago, she ruthlessly suppressed it. Knowing it would not help her. Knowing it could only hurt, if she let it. So, she wouldn't.

And yet, as she knew all too well… it only takes one small stab from behind to collapse everything you'd worked so hard for. Or a shove, or in this case, a divine implosion.

She died, even after trying her best. Taking her previous modus operandi, and perfecting it for a new world, and yet it hadn't saved her.

It hadn't saved anyone.

It's the same old story, and more than anything, she was tired of it.

For a short time, she'd honestly just… given up. Gone through the motions.

There was no anger this time, not really. She couldn't even bring herself to care about the one who'd ruined everything this time. What was the point?

Nothing they'd done really mattered, in the end.

-=-

"…I understand fully."

I'll do it.

Even if it means forsaking those ideals…

-=-=-=-

Afternoon

Near the edge of Tempest proper

Tempest, Jura Tempest Federation

Flow state is commonly characterized as a person's absolute absorption into an activity. The gap between decision-making and acting might as well be seamless. An effortless level of utter concentration, a state of mental "zone" in which immersion trumps nerves or hesitation.

Anyone can enter "flow", but some people are more predisposed to it than others. Those with the ability to focus on will, with confidence and experience enough to trust themselves with anything.

It can be great. It can be dangerous.

Tanya doesn't even think.

Her body sparks, Tetra Breaker extending into the dark blue and black energies. Her eyes burn teal, and her secondary reserves scream.

Then, she moves.

The Non-Newtonian ribbons scatter into grid fragments and numbers. The ring of black and blue fire shrinks, then compresses into the nearest shadow.

Hers.

The pavement cracks, and if Drake was blur, then Tanya is impossible to see.

Ahead, events unfold as if a nightmare. Drake is still a blur, is almost there, is already there, lunging, stabbing-

It's not fast enough.

Despite everything. Despite her heart beating an irregular rhythm, despite the shackles weighing down every limb, despite the white-hot needles stabbing into her skull, the vertigo, blurred vision, bruises and bleeding cuts and-

Tanya is not fast enough, but she should be, she knows it. She forces herself, despite everything. The world slows down. Her headache intensifies a hundredfold, like a heavy molten iron encasing her sense of self, solidifying yet not cooling in the slightest.

Any sane person would collapse. They would take the opportunity to run, recover strength, maybe even hide in a deep, dark hole where no one could ever find them.

If she were thinking, she would go about this differently. Right?

No, that's a lie.

There is no other version of this story.

The one who had never known such love, and had finally come to recognize it, now sees it about to disappear before her very eyes. If you need a reason, look no further than that. But in truth, there is no reason at all. She did not think about the consequences. This is not the logical path of self-interest.

For the first time, without any thought or rationale behind the action, her body simply… moved on its own.

Tunnel vision. From point A, to point B, there is only one path. The fastest one.

Shuna-!

Drake knows. He knows. He says something, a single word, for there is not enough time for anything more.

"Astel."

He can sense her. He can do nothing to stop her. Not now.

But he doesn't need to.

From the shadows underneath her boots, in the darkness between cracks in the paved street, it lashes out at her again. A ring, ribbons of black and blue, clinging to her shade.

They cannot grab her like before. There are too few, and many are frayed or worn from her escape. But, for less than second, they lash out from the shadows created by her body, under her legs and arms the folds in her clothing, snatching with a greedy hold her wrists, torso, ankles.

Normally, this would be nothing at all. This altered Greater Spirit has been damaged heavily by her efforts. Even in her own damaged state, Tanya is vastly stronger than it.

Breaking free wouldn't even require a thought, wouldn't even require Tetra Breaker this time.

But these circumstances...

The barriers. Defeating Otherworlders, driving off knights. Saving so, so many people. And this fight, extended as it is, is exhausting. Her muscles cry out to her, her heart pounds in her chest loud enough to give a heart surgeon their own heart attack…

…and, as has been the case since this invasion began, her magicules slowly siphoning out of her. It's only her unique circumstances that put her in a better position than her compatriots. Her own powers, the foundation of her very Being, and her willpower shielding against the downsides of her magical biology.

If the others knew the truth, they would be ashamed of themselves. She is in the same situation as all of them, after all, and yet…

Here she is. Everything working against her.

And even then, despite everything, she breaks free in a mere second. 1/60th of a minute, the space between one moment and the next.

All that, and Drake only gained a singular second in which to act.

More than enough time.

That golden spear spins, Drake reversing his grip.

A single second. A single stab.

SCRRSH!

The point of his spear glints, rivulets of dark maroon dripping down shining gold. Staining the back of Tanya's shirt.

"TANYA-!"

"Silence."

Drake's other hand shoots forward, past her bow and arrow, grabbing Shuna by the throat and slowly squeezing. Lifting her up, helpless. Ignoring her gasps for air, he turns his attention back, over his shoulder.

"Rage. A hypocrisy. Despite my own, I'll still rebuke you." Drake intones, looking the end of his journey in the eyes. Does this salvation live up to his journey to reach it? "Look at yourself. You're no better than a beast. Think of the time and place before losing it."

Drake drops Shuna and yanks his spear free from Tanya's chest, whirling his spear around his body. A golden whirlwind, slashing up in front, then down behind in one smooth motion.

Shuna stumbles back, blood on her lips, a crimson gash carving from hip to shoulder, down to the bone. A similar injury appears on Tanya, though shallower.

Drake grabs Tanya's torn shirt before she can stumble away too. Uncaring of the blood staining his hands, he throws her forward, crashing her into Shuna.

"Then again," He mutters callously, watching as they collide, then collapse in a bloody pile. "I was aiming for your heart."

He is impressed, against his own will. And oddly enough, reaching his goal is not as satisfying as he'd expected.

Don't get him wrong, this isn't some last-minute change of heart. It feels remarkably good to take revenge here. But he was expecting… more.

Perhaps he is no better than her, in the end.

There is no moral intent here. Merely a desire to be better than someone else. And in this moment, it seems they truly are equals. How... unfortunate.

Perhaps this is why he tires.

"…there is still a city to burn." Drake watches their unmoving bodies for another moment, then turns away. He looks to the smoke-filled sky. "Or rather, burn the rest of. There should be enough left for an evolution, at the very least. Not all of this will be a waste."

He begins walking, spear held casually on his shoulder.

Not even watching her choke on her own blood is catharsis to him, nor is the sight of her companion bleeding beneath her. He doesn't even want to see her life drain from her eyes anymore.

How pathetic. He is certain she would not hesitate should the roles be reversed.

This evolution is necessary, then. The taint of humanity sickens him to his core.

Though, why should he enjoy this, anyway?

There is more than one death. Perhaps seeing the death of her spirit had been enough, and anything more was simply icing on the cake, so to speak? After all, the life truly left her the moment she abandoned herself, after he killed-

Drake pauses.

No, that blow was fatal… right? What reason is there to second guess himself?

Under normal circumstances, it'd be deep enough for one to bleed out quickly. The barriers above ensure that even a powerful monster, that may normally shrug off such a blow, would be brought low near immediately.

There's no need to consider it.

"Astel." The being of faux ribbons laces itself around his ankle, sliding up his back and around his neck. It pulses, faintly. Far weaker than before, but that's to be expected. Drake directs it to his left arm, watching as the nearly two-dimensional Spirit wraps around his forearm like a bracer. "It should be a simple matter to restore you here."

At any moment now, he'd be receiving a Demon Lord Seed. Tanya's situation was far more grievous than the pink one. Whether from drowning in her own blood, or from loss of said blood, she would perish as he had promised. The sooner he razes this city to the ground, the sooner-

"Hrm?" His chest is a little hotter than before.

Drake clears his throat, trying to catch his breath. He'd hardly noticed, but that fight had taken a toll on him as well. Forcing his body to such a level as to match his foe, making use of several abilities, restraining the World Serpent… it's not enough to be worried about, but it is worth acknowledging.

Though, it's not really going away.

Astel twitches on his arm, lifting away from the skin slightly. He glances at it, watching as it stretches up, then back, as if pointing behind him. Wordlessly, he begins to turn.

Just in time for his sixth sense to scream. And an explosion of pure aura to light up the world.

-=-

Death is the inevitable end of all things.

According to the popular theories at the time of Tanya's first death, at some point in the far, far future, the last star will wink out of existence, plunging the universe into utter darkness. Everything dies. This has been the case in the past.

This is the inevitable future of all things. Everything that lives, dies.

She's always known that. It's foolish to try to avoid an inevitability.

"…you're terrified, clearly. You don't want to die. Anything is better than that."

Yes, I am terrified. Of course I am.

Tanya pushes herself up on her forearms, one eye shut and covered in blood. She gasps for air, and coughs, trying to gain some semblance of self-control. It doesn't come easily, fluid filling one of her lungs, seeping from the hole in her chest and back.

That she can think at all is a result of her previous life, and the pain tolerance wrought by years of magical warfare combined with her current self's stronger body. And instinctive pain-blocking formulae, which are steadily failing.

It barely helps. She can't even focus.

I've never been so terrified in my entire life.

As far as she's aware, there's no reincarnation this time. There's no irritable deity to throw her elsewhere, no convenient new world to land in. If she dies here, that's it. Her story ends.

Can she accept that? After all this time? Her first instinct says, no.

I don't want to die. I need to- play dead, hide, run away. Run very, very far away.

No, of course not. Tanya von Degurechaff has always been a being that prioritizes their own survival. They have always been that selfish, self-serving individual.

I bet I could do it now.

Nothing's changed. They haven't changed at all. Isn't the fear in her chest proof of that? Isn't this shaking, trembling, burning terror, exactly what has driven them for so very long?

Isn't that right, T-----?

…

That's right. Just lay down. Play dead, then run away. Save yourself. Why are you even here, anyway? Everything you've gained, you can gain again. Better, even! There's nothing holding you back from serving your own interests first, just as you always-

Not always.

It is a gunshot to the soul, but Tanya can't bring herself to care anymore. She shuts up her subconscious, her past, and goes to work.

This isn't them, the salaryman, the soldier, but Tanya isn't them anymore. She is only herself, in this present moment.

They would never have cared.

They died. Alone. Cold.

Even if it takes everything… even if I have to…

Her vision fades in and out, spots of black and red.

Beneath her, Shuna dances in and out of consciousness, the barriers and her wound working against any attempt at lucidity. The magicule deprivation is getting to her. The blue and green of her kimono is slowly shifting to a sickly maroon.

…abandon those ideals… I'll do it.

No. No!

I don't want her to die. I won't let anyone else die here.

The pain of the past and the present combine.

Tanya can feel it, more than ever before.

Her previous two deaths had been instant. Now, she can feel it. Every time she blinks, there's another layer overlaying perception, like the Reverse Side of the World's fabric. Something is pulling at her, like a hand grasping the back of her shirt, tugging not physically but internally.

A warmth slowly spreads from the right side of her chest, down into her abdomen. Internal bleeding. Her mouth is dry, shivers starting. Blood loss. Stretched, crisp-feeling skin and muscles. Electric shocks, burns.

Tanya categorizes each of these clinically, like a coroner or pathologist. An apt description.

I can't. I won't. I want…

And yet, despite everything… she starts to glow.

All I ever wanted… no, right here and right now, I want to win! I need to win! Even if it kills me-

Without needing to think, she flares her magic, knowing anything leaving her body will dissipate immediately. But that's not the point.

-despite everything working against me, I'm not going to lose!

Feeling. Flow state. Natural energies.

There are more powers than just magic.

Even if she'd never touched upon them. Even if the effort is too much. It doesn't matter if she can or can't. She's never wanted something so badly in any of her lives.

Doesn't that mean something?

Suffocating in her own blood. Carvings across her torso, face. Smoking scars.

Pure agony. Pure fury. Pure feeling.

She doesn't even think. Her intent alone guides the way.

With the energy signature from Drake's spear already registered in Tetra Breaker, it's a simple matter to break the spatial effect over her wounds, and physical contact with Shuna ensures the same with hers.

This does nothing about the bleeding, of course, and their wounds are far too severe for the inefficient healing magic Tanya knows. Brute force won't work here. There's not nearly enough left in the tank for that, Skill or otherwise.

…what will it take?

What will you give?

…right.

The Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker.

An interesting phenomenon, the combination of multiple Unique Skills into a cohesive whole, retaining the strengths and abilities of the component parts while adding to them. In this case, the Demon Lord Seed granted by Octavius Valentin acted as a catalyst, merging the Unique Skills Tetrabattery Limit Enhancement and Formulaic Casting.

As before, it allows the manipulation of magicules through formulae. Further, it contains a sort of "battery", which once filled may act as a second source of magicules alongside Tanya's own natural self-replenishing internal pool of magicules. However, the new Skill is not limited to these functions.

The Demon Lord Seed catalyst no longer exists, for it was consumed in the process of merging. Thus, the creation of a Skill greater than the sum of its component parts.

This expanded function has been noted and used countless times. Increased efficiency and increased density of magicules is one such example. As is the analysis and manipulation of other magical energies, as long as Tanya's own magicules are used to bridge the gap and her willpower can be exerted.

This includes disintegrating a rogue sinkhole of Mary and Shuna's combined spatial energy, the calming of a magicule storm caused by artificial space-time distortion, the disruption and absorption of spirit magic…

One might say that the fine control Tetra Breaker grants over her own magicules in order to manipulate energies is, by itself, a Unique power. It allows her to interact with other powers.

Tetra… Breaker…

That being said, she's fading, and fast. Shuna is hardly any better. It takes everything in her to stay in the moment. To keep from slipping up.

She'd already fucked up once trying to save her. Like a fool, she'd given in to her emotions and had gotten stabbed for it. She would not fuck up again.

But, she would also not abandon those emotions, as she once would.

With the last vestiges of her sense of self, her intent, she reaches with that power. She reaches, not out into a storm or a spear, but inward. Deeper and deeper, until she finds-

It seems counterproductive – or redundant, and indeed, normally impossible – to persist in such a scenario… but wouldn't you know it, she has more than one source to pull from. Even now, there's something left.

Even if it means…

…Extension!

An aura explodes out of her. A brilliant, miraculous flash of electric teal.

-=-

The only certainty is uncertainty. A bridge, and its river. The shore, and its ocean. Both and neither at the same time. A connection that is, and isn't, and one that is both real and not in every sense of the word.

The most apt descriptor is one that cannot be constrained by mortal language.

Shuna flutters between waking worlds, unknowing what sensations are felt and given.

An ever-shifting forest. A desert sparkling with ice. A mountain in the distance, capped with a tower reaching into the clouds. A grey and blue beach under a stormy sky.

Dreams. It is said that dreams and reality are not perfectly connected, and as such, in certain cases, one may find themselves… slipping through the gaps, as it were.

So, what happens when the dream ends?

Who can say?

Shuna wakes up slowly, and painfully.

The skin across her front stretches in a harsh line. Not painful, but uncomfortable. Her chest is tight, the air itself thick, but breathable. Her limbs are heavy, senses sluggish, with a pit in her stomach she vaguely remembers to be magicule-deprivation.

It feels very much like a swampy soup encroaching over her brain, weighing her down and tattering perception. With a short mental effort, she's able to shove it away for the time being. Her body seems to be doing better now, though under these barriers "better" is only slightly above "terrible".

Further improvement is impossible. Not without someone's help, such as-

Tanya!

Shuna tries to sit up, then flinches, as if expecting some sharp flash of pain. But it never comes, and what she notices instead is the slight weight of something falling into her lap. She looks down, past bloodied, torn fabric, and spots a glint of light along a metallic container.

A familiar flask. Tanya's flask.

With a sinking feeling in her gut, Shuna tugs at the torn fabric of her kimono, and looks inside.

From stomach to shoulder, a diagonal line cuts through the fabric. It is frayed in places, though a rather clean cut as a whole, and leeching out from the torn line are waves of sticky maroon. She presses against the skin, ignoring the metallic liquid staining her fingerprints.

To her horror, she's completely healed. All except for a scar. There hadn't been enough to prevent that, she must realize. Which means…

Meanwhile, Tanya's flask falls to the cobbled pavement with a muffled clatter.

Hollow. Empty.

"I'm not a good person. I know that. I'm fully aware of my own flaws."

Liar. I only know-

Tanya, training the one who'd killed her. Tanya, fighting the Destroyer. Tanya, advising anyone who'd listen. Tanya, nearly losing an arm to save another. Tanya, working late into the night, stressing over scheduling and decision-making, giving speeches, training in the wee hours of the morning, researching magic and history and politics and-

"Nothing I do will ever make up for that. I know that, and I don't care. I don't need justification, or forgiveness. I did what I had to, and I don't feel bad about it. By definition, that should make me a bad person. But..."

Stop that. Stop saying that! Don't you know that I-

The most logical path. Rationale that explains everything away. It's necessary, it's expected, it's required. Being selfish.

If these actions are selfish, then Tanya should be as selfish as she likes.

Except…

This is the one time Shuna will curse her lover for being selfish. Standing against all odds, and for what?

Run away. Let's run away together. The dark thought circulates, and to her shame, she doesn't suppress it. Not immediately.

But that's irrelevant right now. The future does not matter.

"Who has never reached up at the stars in the night sky and wanted ?"

Right now, the stars are burning with all their power. They are alive.

Right now, Shuna is alive. Tanya is alive.

Despite everything, that woman is standing. That woman is still moving, still fighting.

How? And for how long?

"Why" is the better question, technically, but Shuna knows that answer to that one. She'd do the same. There's no reason "why", just as there was no reasoning behind her coming here.

There is no rational explanation. There doesn't need to be.

She wants one, now. Knowing she won't get one. Knowing, if the roles were reversed, it'd be the same.

Shuna can only watch as Tanya walks away. There is more to it than that, she knows too. Heaven and Earth meet at one point, in one woman. There is something more to her.

Tanya walks back to that man, their would-be killer, and in spite of that power, Shuna is terrified of losing her. She'll do anything to prevent that. Even if it means forcing herself up, sacrificing herself, she'll do it.

Even if it means giving up everything, Shuna will do it.

There is no greater love than that. To lay down one's life for…

She tries to get up and fails. It's a pitiful attempt; she hardly even moves.

Cursing her weakened body, cursing these barriers, those Otherworlders, the very World itself for allowing this to pass… cursing herself, for failing in the one thing she'd set out to do. For being useless, again.

So agitated, pained, dismayed is she, that Shuna doesn't notice the pulsing in her chest, her blood and tissue and bones.

No no no… I can't- I need to-

She heaves, rolls over onto her forearms and knees, and retches. Nothing comes up, but bile burns the back of her throat. Spots flurry across her vision, and one arm fails her, her shoulder thudding painfully against the hard ground.

She ignores it as best she can. Forcing herself up. Back onto her forearms, then staying there, catching her breath.

Behind her, she can hear them. Fading in and out of consciousness, fighting to keep herself awake. She fades in, and out, and the sounds of battle have resumed.

How long has she been there? Tanya is up and fighting already, with bleeding wounds that were far more grievous even before Shuna had been healed, and here she is just trying to stay conscious!

Get up. If she can do it- get up already! Look at her! Get up!!

Shuna pushes herself, berates herself, unaccustomed to such pain and exhaustion yet desiring it managed. Desiring better, more out of herself.

Even if it takes-

A glint along metal catches her eye, off to the side. And another, nearby.

Her bow, dropped after Drake had grabbed her by the throat. Miraculously still intact. And a single, silver-bladed, purple-tinted combat knife. A glance at her waist reveals her quiver, with a single arrow left, and the oddly shaped piece of yellow-painted metal she'd swiped from the Assembly Hall before leaving.

Shuna snarls, baring her fangs to the World in open defiance.

-=-