Liopramon had never teleported this fast in his entire life, desperately zigzagging through the streets to avoid the scarlet hounds. But every movement he made just brought him close to another one, and in less than a second its head would whip towards him and it would begin charging, crimson smog dripping from its maw.

He swore, and ran another block, leapt a fence, and promptly vanished several dozen metres to the right. His cap fizzled as he landed, the magic in the threads being strained to their limits, but he kept running as he heard the howling once again.

“Shit...shit, shit, shit...what is wrong with you?”

So focused was he on his own fear that he missed watching his surroundings for a split second, and he turned straight into one of Baskervimon’s shades roaring in his face. The leprechaun yelled, his hand going to his hat, but it just fizzled uselessly and spat sparks at his hand, too overworked now.

Liopramon turned, choosing another alley, but he knew he’d been discovered. More of the red hounds were converging, cutting off all his exits, appearing from every direction, even from above. He tried to dart through a window, but one of them grabbed his arm and wrenched him away, throwing him to the ground.

Liopramon shuffled back, watching as the hounds formed a wall in front of him. They shimmered, converging together until only Baskervimon stood there, his eyes wide and round and focused on the pixie. Liopramon laughed nervously, shaking his head.

“What are ye waiting for, mongrel? You hate me, right? Go ahead. Kill me. See what difference it makes.”

“I wasn’t told to kill you,” drawled Baskervimon, the voice coming from his open maw like some possessed doll. “ I was told to fetch you.”

“Good work.”

Liopramon turned around, and saw Nicholas behind him, the light reflected in his glasses.

“I was more than reasonable to you when we met.”

The pixie snorted, his hand going to his jacket, but Nicholas moved first; his leg flying out and slamming into Liopramon’s face. He staggered, his arms flailing around, but Nicholas reached down and grabbed him by the collar, hoisting him clear off the ground. In a single movement he turned, and pummelled Liopramon into the wall. There was a crack, and the leprechaun gasped in pain, his legs kicking out towards Nicholas’s chest.

Still leaning forwards, the young man reared back, and brought his fist into Liopramon’s cheek, stunning him once again. When he drew back, the pixie could dimly see behind his glasses in the low light, and the expression of tranquil fury that he wore on his face.

“I gave you every chance to run away. And you came after me. No...no, you came after the people I care about. So I hope you’re ready for this.”

Liopramon dangled, sliding down the wall as Nicholas crouched. His hand was held against the leprechaun’s collar, tense and pale, gripping like iron. His eyes flicked between Nicholas’s straight face, and Baskervimon’s intense stare, with the hound still slathering as he sat motionless, poised but patient.

Liopramon’s mouth split apart, and he began to laugh, albeit slightly choked. Nicholas said nothing. But he raised his fist again.

“Put him down.”

The young man’s hand opened, but stayed in place. A cold wind fell over his cheek and he looked aside, seeing Grace standing next to him, her partner forming the mist in the alleyway. Nicholas watched, expectantly. But his grip on Liopramon didn’t change. Grace shook her head.

“Your grandparents are safe now.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to do this to him. He’s not worth it.”

“Tell me he doesn’t deserve it. I dare you.”

“Nicholas...”

Grace knelt down, putting herself at eye-level with the young man. His face seemed almost monochrome in the faint streetlight.

“You know this isn’t what they want. This isn’t how they want to see you. You’re not a punisher; you’re a tamer. That’s the way we have to be. To try and find the best outcome for everyone. Even the people who don’t deserve it.”

“Best outcome?” Nicholas gave a harsh laugh. “You really think there’s a way out of this where we all win?”

“No, I-“

“You told me this wasn’t a game, Grace. I know that. I’ve always known that; since I watched you nearly die in the hands of that giant clown demon and I couldn’t do a thing to help you, I’ve known this wasn’t a game.”

Grace’s eyes widened, as Nicholas looked towards her, his voice staying dangerously low.

“This is important. What we do has consequences; whether we do right, or make mistakes. But if we need to face our consequences, then so do the rest.” He leant sideways, pressing Liopramon further against the wall.

“I have barely any family left now. It was my job to keep them safe, and protected. I failed, and if they disown me for that then that’s what it costs.”

He looked down at the imp’s face, his eyes burning with a cold rage. “But if I failed, then you’re going to suffer. For me. For Yethmon. For everyone you’ve hurt with your reckless antics. Someone has to. And I don’t have anything left to lose.”

“Nicholas, stop-“

“Get away from me!”

Nicholas’s voice took on a harsh tone, but Grace kept moving, glaring down at him. “This isn’t who you are. This isn’t why you wanted to be a part of this. I’ve been angry before, Nicholas, I’ve felt the need to punish and to judge, but it can’t be who we are. It...it isn’t who you are.”

Nicholas looked down, holding his free hand against the rough pavement. Grace watched, holding her shoulders tightly against herself, trying to ignore the chill coursing through her body.

And then she heard a choked chuckling, as Liopramon’s head lulled sideways.

“Oh, love, y’really are so damn sweet.”

Grace glared at him, but Liopramon just shrugged even as Nicholas pressed even further. “I feel for ya. Really, honestly. It’s nice t’think you can rely on someone to be the right thing for you. Feels nice. Utter bollocks though. Y’really think you know who he is?”

Grace took a step, but only the one, torn as she was. “Be quiet. I didn’t ask you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s staying quiet, so I’m answering. And my answer is that you don’t have a feckin’ clue what you’re on about.”

Liopramon grinned, showing his crooked yellow teeth. “Cause th’fact is, at the end of the day, yer scared that yer boyfriend’s not the nice sweet innocent boy you think he is.”

Liopramon cackled, but his laugh was cut short as Nicholas pressed harder, punching him again across the face. His eyes glanced up, shaking behind his glasses as he focused on his captive.

“You’ve hurt me enough. You really think now’s a good idea to hurt me anymore?”

“Nicholas, stop!”

Liopramon ignored the girl, staring directly into Nicholas’s cold stare. He grimaced, licking his lips. “I’ve sussed you, kid. Yer only out f’yourself. Fer a laugh. A thrill. A chance t’say you were doin’ something. I see it now. I get it. Yer as much lost here as I am.”

He snorted, one eye clenching as he kicked in the air. “We’d never have made partners. It ain’t gonna happen. And without that then we’re both gonna die here.”

“I am a goddamn hero.”

Nicholas brought Liopramon in close, his own eyes twitching. “I have more of a reason to live than you ever will. Than you ever could have. If anyone’s not coming out of this it’s going to be you, and nobody’s going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“Well now. Y’know how to fib.”

Liopramon looked up with an almost dazed expression. “I don’t care anymore. But gimme just this one thing. Cause when y’lose any reason to care, then the only thing y’have left is just spite.”

His golden eyes flashed down, his face splitting apart in that same horrific grin.

“Spite, and the teeniest remaining bit o’luck.”

Something flashed in the corner of Nicholas’s eye. His mind racing, he turned, looking at the coin rolling in Liopramon’s wounded hand,

Right before the leprechaun snapped his fingers.

The coin shot out, shimmering through the air.

There was a glint of gold, and then black and red, as the coin buckled Nicholas’s glasses

And sank itself into his left eye.

“AAAAAAAAARGH!”

“NICHOLAS!”

The boy reeled back, falling against the ground as Liopramon fell down. The leprechaun wasted no time; fumbling with his hat in a desperate attempt to leap away again. Grace immediately rushed to her boyfriend’s side, but he was shaking his head, one palm held over his eye as blood streamed down over his cheek.

“Oh god...oh god, oh god...”

“Icicle Barrage!”

Alopemon leapt for Liopramon, shards of ice already shooting outwards, but the leprechaun clicked his fingers, and vanished, appearing further down the alleyway. He cursed, shaking his hand out and rolling his shoulders.

“An eye for a hand. Seems t’check out. I’ll leave ye with all that.”

Shadows reared up around him as Baskervimon leapt forwards, cracking the pavement on his landing. Liopramon looked up tiredly, seeing the hound mere inches from his face, red smoke pouring from his mouth. The leprechaun opened his arms wide, his eyes half-closed.

“Do yer feckin’ worst.”

Baskervimon lunged forwards, death and blood in his eyes and teeth as he went for Liopramon’s head.

And then he exploded in a shower of red energy.

Liopramon blinked, patting himself all over, then looking forwards. Yethmon stood there. At least...it seemed to be Yethmon. It looked like him, save for the dark red aura round his entire body.

“What the hell are ya playing at now?”

Liopramon tilted sideways, looking backwards at Nicholas as he dragged himself to his feet.

“Yethmon...come...”

Trails of red light flickered around the hound’s legs, and he seemed to float backwards, still standing to attention. Grace watched it all as she held Nicholas, until she felt him moving in her arms.

“Can’t...see...”

“It’s going to be okay, I promise, we can get you to a hospital or...or someone...someone can help you-“

“I can’t...see...him...yet...”

Grace’s breath caught in her throat. But before she could think of anything, something climbed up around her, and she screamed and back away as she found herself standing amongst a prairie of crimson fire, lapping at her feet and encompassing Nicholas’s hunched body. It wasn’t hot, but it was painful, gnawing away at her very bones even as it didn’t leave a single mark. She tried to fight through it, but the waves kept coming, pushing her away further and further.

Only Yethmon stood in the centre next to Nicholas, uncharacteristically still and silent as the boy straightened up. The young man lowered his bloodied palm, his eye swollen and shut tight. But his other was opened wide, with a scarlet light emanating from the centre.

“You’re that desperate...to see...what I can be like?”

His hand went to his pocket even as Grace tried to swim through waves of vicious energy, Alopemon standing beside her and swiping with layers of frost, to no avail.

“NICHOLAS , DON’T!”

“Soul Coalescence!”

The flames rippled, biting back and forth as they blossomed like a bleeding flower. And they rose higher, marking Nicholas’s legs, his torso, his arms, his shadowed face. And they also completely engulfed Yethmon as he stood there, utterly motionless. Utterly subservient to his tamer’s will.

One by one the streetlamps above them burst, leaving the street bathed in a deep crimson. Grace struggled to see through the myriad of blacks and reds and greys now swirling before her. But she could see the silhouettes now. Nicholas held out an arm, placing it on Yethmon’s shoulder. The hound nodded, his figure swaying.

Grace gritted her teeth as she shook her head. It wasn’t subservience. It was agreement.

They were doing this together.

“Evolution Activate!”

The ground shuddered, energy seeping into the ground and climbing up the surrounding walls, as if it were a trickling liquid, only upwards. It spread across the ground as well, although the centre was engulfed in a thick black shadow, obscuring the silhouettes even more. Grace could make them out on occasion; both staying largely separate. A human form, still clutching his face, layers whipped away from him. And the hound beside him, pawing at the ground, swelling and groaning. As the shadows whipped past she saw visions entrapped in them; Yethmon’s claws, Highwaymon’s pistols, Baskervimon’s rattling chains and bloodthirsty maw. The last one remained, emerging again and again, pounding out at the smog as if trying to claw its way out.

And as it began to tear, she realised that it wasn’t just one. There were three...no, six...ten...

She held her ground, watching as an entire pack of spectral hounds split the energy apart, devouring it with their very movements. They were monstrous, with jutting limbs and hooked crimson teeth and glowing eyes spread over their faces in an unordered manner, and their entire bodies were made up of wisps of black shadow. They clamoured and crawled up walls, across the ground, constantly reaching out and melding with one another and splitting apart again. But each one of them controlled...or tethered...by the lone figure standing in the centre.

He stood poised, holding one hand up as the wisps of shadow reached back into his grip; a leash for each ward. He wore a mixture of armour and leather, with a cowl and a cloak over his upper body; all in greys and blacks and faded reds, edged with a beige fur trim. At first glance he seemed to be fifteen feet tall, but as the smog cleared below he could be seen to be standing on top of a small chariot, held upright on blade-edged wheels and a supporting spike digging into the ground. More trails of shadow stuck out from the jutting horns at the front of the beast, showing the hounds to be his steeds as well as his hunters.

Although he was clearly a hunter himself. In his left hand he held a rifle, balanced perfectly against his forearm; ornately carved from black wood and gunmetal and lines with moonlit silver.

Most of his face was covered by a ragged mask, leaving only his eyes exposed; the right one deep crimson and piercing, and the left blank, merely glowing with a terrible empty fury. He wore a simple twisted crown upon his head, with curved silver horns jutting from the front. He was a warrior king, a hunter, a commander. And he was furious.

“Herlathimon!”

The last of the lights flickered, and dissolved, leaving just a red haze from the crimson mist all around. But Herlathimon himself stood out, his form intricate in the darkness. Grace stepped forwards, her feet leaving ripples in the shadows.

“You’ve...you’ve evolved...”

Herlathimon didn’t respond. He just raised a palm, placing it against his left eye, as a little haze of data shimmered in front.

“I can see for miles.”

He lowered it, and his eyes flashed as they turned towards Liopramon, still standing utterly stunned not twenty metres away.

“I can see you for what you are, you pathetic little gremlin.”

The leprechaun fell backwards, sitting in the black shadows beneath him. His eyes drooped, and he watched as the hunter rolled towards him, carried by the darkness. The barrel of his rifle seemed to glow as it swung in his arm, shining with moonlight. Liopramon’s head fell forwards.

“...y’really are just a better fit than me, aren’t you...”

He tried to stand up, but his palms slipped against the energy beneath him. He realised that they were shaking, and he scrambled backwards as the chariot rolled towards him, the wheels creaking.

“Don’t...don’t kill me...I beg you...”

“Don’t kill you?”

The chariot stopped, and Herlathimon stepped forwards, holding his hand on one of the horns at the front. His eyes fell upon Liopramon, boring into him.

“You’ve stole, you’ve lied, you’ve betrayed, you’ve fought against everything we’re trying to do. You maimed me. You nearly killed me. And you’re such a coward that you won’t even face your own demise in the eye?”

“I...I’m a coward...I know that...I know and...oh god I’m sorry...”

“But I’m not going to kill you.”

Herlathimon straightened up, holstering his rifle behind him and holding his fingers out. Liopramon held his breath. But he soon became aware of the shadows gathering either side of the chariot. Dozens of red eyes, and red teeth, and a terrible humming and growling from the formless terrors.

“I’m going to hurt you.”

Liopramon gnashed his teeth as he sprayed a volley of coins, rushing backwards into the darkness. Herlathimon watched him disappear, and raised an arm. Grace ran forwards behind him, feeling the dreadful energy of the shadows around her.

“He’s gone, please, don’t, don’t let yourself-“

“Hunt.”

A great baying filled the alleyway as the shadows lurched forwards, splitting into the dozens of hounds as they rushed off into the shadows. Grace watched in horror, gripping the wheel and shaking it.

“Stop! I won’t let you do this!”

Liopramon leapt blindly through the shadows, feeling his heart beating in his ears. Melding with the great howling that was closing in from all around. He turned a corner, and yelled as a set of claws raked over his chest.

“Vanishing Cap!”

It was as if he’d never moved. He felt the change in location and the burst of magic from his hat, but he was surrounded again, eyes pushing up against his face. Another set of claws, scraping upwards, ripping open the skin from his chin up to his eye. He staggered back, and flailed wildly, but it was like attacking air. And the red lights bore down all the more, none of them charging him, all just grazing, cutting, slicing, taking piece by piece. Toying with him.

Their order had been pain.

Smoke poured from Herlathimon’s hand as he held the leashes into the darkness, even as Grace tried to clamber up beside him. A wayward blast of shadows sent her back, and she sprawled on the ground. She could taste blood.

“Nicholas...you aren’t...like this...”

The hunter didn’t even notice her, his eyes now beacons shining into the alleyway ahead as the howls were interjected by sudden screams of pain.

“I’m in control, Liopramon. How does it feel to be moments away from death for the rest of your life?”

“Stop it...”

“You did this to yourself. You’re never running away again-“

“I said stop it! Soul Coalescence!”

Herlathimon flinched, the leashes in his hand going taut. He turned his head, but there was a bright blue flash as Skathimon leapt forwards, bringing her blade down.

“Fimbul Scimitar!”

An arc of frost burst through the air, severing the shadow leashes. They coiled backwards into Herlathimon’s arms, and he brought his hand down, the shadows building around him again.

Up ahead, the hounds went wild. They gnashed, and ripped, and tore at everything they could find. Including one another. Great strings of dark energy torn away, and dissipating around them.

And down on the ground, Liopramon raised a bleeding hand to his head, no longer able to see his tormentors. He choked on his own bile, but fought through it, clamping down on the tattered remains of his hat.

“Vanishing...Cap.”

Herlathimon tilted his head, and looked aside at Skathimon, who was standing in a veil of fog, the white frost intermingling with the black shadow.

“You let him escape.”

“I saved him from you.” Skathimon walked forwards, turning around and facing the hunter directly. “This isn’t who you are. For your sake as much as for his, I had to let him go.”

“Let him go...” Herlathimon raised a palm to his head. “For every one you let go, how many other people have you condemned? Don’t you see that? Isn’t that how we’re already in this situation?”

“You can’t make that decision. Not like that. Not like you are right now.” Skathimon clenched her gauntlet. “I’ve seen this power, Nicholas, I’ve felt this power; trust me, I know how it feels.”

Herlathimon swayed. “So you’re blaming forces of nature now?”

“You think you’re in the right! I know you do! I know why!”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I can’t let you do this to yourself! I can’t let you destroy yourself!”

Herlathimon raised an arm, pointing directly at her as the shadows reformed beside him, the first of the hounds poking their heads through.

“I am in control! I’ve been in control through all of this and I am more than worthy to save this world! Why are you still trying to stop me, Grace? Why?”

Skathimon blinked, frost patterns spreading out from beneath her feet.

“Because I know how much you believe that you’re doing the right thing. Because you’re more like me than I ever wanted to admit. Right down to the way you think.”

She raised her sword, holding it rigidly in front of her.

“Calm down. Let this power go. You can’t handle it right now.”

Herlathimon stared at the blade. Then into her eyes.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Only if you treat it that way.” She pulled her other hand forwards, gripping the handle with both. “But you’re my responsibility. And I won’t let you get any worse.”

Herlathimon’s eyes closed halfway, and he let out a sigh. “So even now, you’re going to reject me...”

Skathimon didn’t yield. The hunter raised an arm, and a volley of hounds appeared at his call.

“Get her out of my way.”

“No.”

Skathimon ducked as the hounds charged, and swiped with her sword, the blade tearing through the shadows with ease. She saw the chariot rushing forwards, and held out her other palm, gripping one of the horns.

“Vindictive Blizzard!”

The wind blasted outwards, enveloping the front of the chariot and stopping it in its tracks. Herlathimon crouched down, and placed an armoured hand around her wrist, pulling firmly.

“Enough.”

“I said no.”

Another blast of ice, stronger this time, enough to make the warrior king back away. He pulled his arm around, and the chariot lurched back, screeching around to one side, but the ice spirit pressed her palm against the ground and all of a sudden the vehicle skidded, the wheels crazing over the black ice. Herlathimon whirled around, whips of shadow following his movement as he attempted to knock her away, but they didn’t even get close. She charged again, avoiding the hounds that leapt at her, latching onto her. Their claws raked at her armour, but it was faint, and light. They fell away, growling uncertainly.

She didn’t let up though; charging at full speed and bringing her blade around. Not at Herlathimon himself. At the wheels.

“You have to stop.”

Her sword cut the air, and the chariot blew sideways, one wheel buckling inwards from the blow. Herlathimon leapt, landing in an almost catlike manner as the vehicle rolled behind him, crashing into the wall. It erupted into black flames, sinking downwards as Herlathimon straightened himself up, his ragged hair blowing in the wind behind him.

Skathimon began to walk forwards, but the warrior king reached behind his back, unholstering his rifle with one hand. He lowered it, the end moving incredibly steadily until it touched the ice at his feet. He began to walk; step by step, dragging the barrel along the ground behind him. Skathimon mirrored him, holding her own blade down. Shadows and frost played at their feet, reaching out into the centre of the circle, lashing and biting at one another. Both equal in power and will.

Herlathimon slowed, and let out a sigh. “Do you really want to do this?”

Skathimon looked up, her eyes blazing in her mask.

“No. But you need to know how it feels.”

She tensed her legs, and leapt forwards, breaking shadows beneath her feet as she swung her sword around. But she had barely reached Herlathimon when he raised his rifle, and the blade skidded down the barrel, leaving sparks and catching in the chamber. Skathimon pulled back, but the hunter was quicker, spinning the barrel in his arm and striking her in the chin. She doubled back, and Herlathimon spun the firearm again, going for the opposite shoulder. But she raised an arm, holding the spiked stock at bay as she held out a palm.

Herlathimon ducked as the blast of frost narrowly shot over his shoulder, and swung his leg around at her front ones. She reared up, and her front feet came out and slammed into his collar one after the other. He choked, and drew his rifle back one handed, narrowly blocking a swipe from her blade. She doubled around, striking again and again, side to side, with each blow against his armour leaving trails of frost. He hissed, and brought the rifle up vertically, hooking the end of the blade and holding it in place as he leered forwards.

“Fight me like you mean it!”

He pressed the barrel forwards against her shoulder, and a blast of shadows burst from the end, the impact rocking Skathimon’s body to the core. She reared back, planting a palm in the warrior’s stomach and blasting him back with a volley of ice. He held his free hand against it, spinning the rifle in his arm as he dodged out the way of her other blows

Without warning he spun the barrel up, firing again. The shadows slammed into her shoulder, and he kept going, striking her arms and torso even as she raised them up in defence. She could feel the cold darkness seeping in, latching onto her flesh and begging her to let go, to submit.

“I won’t let you become this!” she cried, flinging the trails of darkness away as the air cracked from the white ice around her. “Not after everything we’ve come through to get here!”

“I’ve become a hero, Grace! Like you and like all of them; why are you still rejecting me? Why won’t you accept me?”

“Because you’re not a hero, Nicholas! You’ve barely even begun!” yelled the ice warrior, and she leapt sideways as the ground erupted with spikes of darkness, spiralling out from Herlathimon’s footsteps. He watched her arc, and spun around, landing a brutal knee into her chest, before jamming the rifle into her hip, the darkness bursting from the end as it hit. Skathimon went up with the impact, but she remained holding her sword, skidding backwards on the black ice as she hunched her shoulders.

She brought her arm in a wide arc, the sword trailing white lights at the end, before she held it above her head, the air crystallising around it as she screamed.

“Fimbul SCIMITAR!”

The blade struck the ground, and a cleaver of ice and snow burst out, slamming into Herlathimon and launching him off his feet. He slammed into the wall behind him hard enough to crack it, and his back arched in pain, his eyes staring out against the onslaught of cold. Skathimon pulled the blade back, the blizzard ceasing, and Herlathimon fell to his hands and knees. But he wasn’t there even a second before his head snapped upwards, and he roared.

“Then stop...holding...me BACK!”

He lunged forwards, his eyes leaving red trails in the mist as he ran at her; half man, half bestial in his movements. He raised his arms, claws bared as he went for her head, even as she went to block. But he faded in an instant, and she looked behind her, before a brutal blow struck her in the neck. She swung back, her sword cleaving through the black form...but it dissipated with a howl, one of his hounds. Another two leapt at her, latching onto her arm, their teeth digging in deeply this time. She pulled them away, only for a blast to catch her palm, knocking her sword away. Against her instincts she turned towards it, knocking three more hounds away and countering Herlathimon’s crushing punch, holding him back and slamming her shoulder into his chest.

The two grappled, skidding back and forth as the hounds circled them, growing in number and baying in a growing intensity. Several leapt forwards, but Skathimon rolled sideways, batting them away with her legs and tail. Herlathimon pushed her back, adjusting his grip and twisting her arms upwards.

But she ducked, and held an arm back, pulling her sword forwards from behind her and bringing the pommel into his neck. She spun it around, forming crystals around it again as she pulled it in an arc, the barrel of Herlathimon’s rifle just blocking it. He spun it upwards, but she made a cutting motion, intercepting the end of the barrel just before he fired.

Herlathimon leapt back, and the shadows enveloped him as Skathimon clenched her fists, a swirling storm building around her once again. She readied herself for another charge, but the silhouette rose up before her as a hundred red eyes peered out from the wall of darkness. Herlathimon looked down, high on his reformed chariot as the hounds began to charge, and he clapped his palms together.

“Vital Pursuit!”

The torrent of claws and teeth rushed forwards, swamping Skathimon, latching onto her and tearing at her body. She twisted back and forth, throwing them away and slashing through them, but with each one she lost, more kept coming. And with every attack she could feel her energy draining more. Her vision blurred, her hearing began to pulse, her sense of self began to wane. There was nothing she could latch onto; only the endless sense of survival above all else. And even that was dwindling.

“Oh...screw...THIS!”

Skathimon leapt up, swiping through two of the hounds in mid-air and landing a few metres away. The others turned towards her, splitting apart as they began to charge, but she landed with her palms pressed together, her eyes glowing a bright yellow as she twisted around.

“Silent Winter!”

The pulse of black energy emanated outwards, smothering all the hounds and freezing them in space. Only she was moving freely, her eyes darting back and forth as the hounds still rushed towards her. But she had control now.

She rushed forwards, slashing left and right as she moved, until she had made her way through the sea of shadows. She ducked down on the other side, and looked back, her sword glistening as she held it out beside her.

Time sped up. Lights flashed all around, and an explosion of frost shot up into the sky. She turned as the hound dissipated around her, and looked up, trying to see through the mass of ice and shadows.

“Is that all you have? Hiding behind your partner? That isn’t what I took you for!”

“I didn’t expect them to stop somebody as strong as you.”

Skathimon turned, holding up her sword as a silhouette rose up in the fog. She swung forwards, and the air cracked before her, severing the shadow in half. It burst, and she saw the two halves of the chariot split, dissipating into the darkness once again. But the rider stood high, and his rifle glinted through the fog as he descended. Skathimon backed away, raising her arms, as Herlathimon landed before her and pointed the silver barrel at her torso.

“Judgement Sniper!”

A blast of darkness rang out, sending shockwaves in a circle all around and knocking Herlathimon off his feet. But the main blast rang forwards, catching Skathimon in the lower chest. She was lifted off her feet and sent airborne, the pain and shock immobilising her until she landed, sprawling on the ground.

She scrambled on the ground, her arms going to her chest, clawing at her armour. It seemed to be intact, save for the black web crawling over the surface. But the more she touched it, the more her body felt to be on fire. It pierced through every nerve in her body, an onslaught of pain, as if her flesh was being rent apart fibre by fibre. And it reached up across her shoulders and through her head and into her brain, where it lodged in place. A blade of guilt, and of loss, and of anger and of terror. Everything she felt just dug into her more, her emotions become more pain. It locked her in place. It tore her apart from the inside. And as she clawed at her armour all the more, and felt it dissolving in her hands, she knew that it wouldn’t stay inside for much longer.

Against all the odds she found herself staring upwards, black flames emanating around her. And within the centre, Herlathimon stood tall, surrounded by a vanguard of shadow hounds, obeying his every will to the letter. Skathimon hissed under her breath, and dragged herself to her feet, pressing her sword against the ground.

“Is this...what you wanted...from me...?”

“What I wanted...”

Herlathimon’s eyes flashed, his rifle dragging along the ground. Then he brought it up, and the stock slammed into Skathimon’s cheek, sending her reeling backwards.

“I wanted to be a part of this! I wanted to be a part of your life! And you denied me!”

Skathimon gritted her teeth beneath her mask, and lunged forwards, the pommel of her sword slamming into the warrior’s collar. He raised an arm, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away, the spiked handle drawing blood. “You hid it from me! You hid away who you were!”

“I did it to protect you!”

“You really cared enough about me to protect me?”

“I...I never imagined you would turn out like this!”

“Like what? I was never meant to know who you are? To be a part of who you are?”

Herlathimon drew back, spinning his rifle, but Skathimon clapped her hands together and he was suddenly held in a freezing energy, holding him in place. The ice warrior’s hair rose up behind her as she struck him again and again, blowing him back with the flat of her sword, and a savage kick to the abdomen.

Herlathimon went reeling, and he looked up, seeing Skathimon charging towards him, eyes blazing. He stepped aside, two hounds rising up to take his place, but she barrelled through them, destroying them where they stood. Herlathimon stumbled back, dropping his rifle at his feet as he held up his palms.

“Then what did you even want from me, all this time?”

He held his hands up, blocking Skathimon’s blows, before clamping his palms across her sword. He pressed inwards, his eyes burning into hers even as the freezing metal cracked his gauntlets.

“Someone to trust? To love? No...no, that was never it...it couldn’t have been it...nobody could ever love someone as fucked up as me...”

“Nicholas!”

Skathimon faltered, and Herlathimon came back, twisting the blade away and wrenching it from her grasp. She let go, and held her palms out, the blizzard spiralling out and slamming him full in the chest...but he remained standing, even as he was forced back.

“I’ve always been nothing but a tool. That was it, right? I was your ticket to a normal life! I was somebody you could lean on to make everything right for you!”

“That’s not true-“

“I could be your knight. Or your ward. Or your damsel. Anything at all, so long as it could give you a goddamn prayer of a normal human life! You never loved me! You loved what I could give you! A chance to live the life you wanted without having to sacrifice a single thing, except for me!”

Skathimon stumbled back, her blocks becoming sloppier as Herlathimon wailed more and more into her, his armour glinting in her eyes. She flinched, and he landed an uppercut, sending her sideways as he screamed.

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

Skathimon stuttered, frost billowing out all around her. But Herlathimon didn’t even give her a chance to answer as he held his arms out sideways, a disc of silver spinning outwards behind him.

“I wanted to join you! I wanted to help you! I wanted to have a purpose in my wreck of a life where I could actually mean something, and all you ever did was turn me away! So tell me, am I strong enough for you now? Am I worth something to you now?”

“I wanted...I wanted to save you from all of this...why can’t you see that?”

“I’m not your puppet! It’s my choice! It’s my choice to risk myself for all of this! For you!”

“But I never had that choice to begin with!”

Skathimon yelled in fury and grief, and she pulled her arm back as chaotic energy poured from her hand. She swung her arm forwards, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

“Fimbul Scimitar!”

Herlathimon stepped back, holding his arms out beside him as a ring of silver etched itself into the air behind him, leaking black matter that shot forwards in spears.

“Lunar Requiem!”

Skathimon’s blade descended, cutting through the air, but the ground opened up before her, and suddenly she found herself running. Running across a moonlit plain, as shadows reached out and slashed at her arms and legs, trying to pull her down. She looked behind her, seeing the ground rising up, the earth twisting into spires of light and shadow...into teeth, folding over, ready to devour her. All she could do was run, even as it nearly killed her. Run towards a single point. Run towards Herlathimon waiting, as he held his arms up, a scythe in his hand. She reached out towards him. And he swung.

The energy converged on her, only barely held at bay by her own attack. It split apart, sending a snowstorm out sideways of such intensity that it cut through the brickwork and blasted the roof panels away and cracked the very ground beneath them.

And in the middle of the carnage, Skathimon stumbled back, falling to her knees. She could see the shadows before her, of Herlathimon, and the hundreds...if not thousands of spectral hounds at his beck and call. But she didn’t look up at his face. She couldn’t.

Herlathimon stepped forwards, wounded himself by the barrage of cold. But he alone stayed upright, and his rifle hung beside him, swinging back and forth. Ready to take another life. Ready and waiting. Desperate. He looked down in front of him, and saw Skathimon’s eyes staring into his.

“You’re right. I was using you. I always have been.”

Her legs pressed against the ground, but she stumbled again, falling lower and barely keeping herself upright as Herlathimon strode towards her.

“...you remind me of a life I used to have. A life I...a life I walked away from when I was twelve fucking years old. For the sake of another world. I thought I was doing the right thing. But now...I just...I wanted that back. I wanted you.”

Herlathimon slowed, his eyes widening as the Digimon in front of him struggled to get to her feet.

“This life is horrible. I never wanted you to be a part of it. But you...you’re one of us. I can see that. You believe in right. You believe in justice. You believe in sacrificing yourself to make a difference in this world. In all worlds.”

She let out a single laugh, holding her side as blood poured out through her fingers. “You’re so like me it’s not even funny. Right down to my flaws. And because of that...it’s because of that that I can’t let you carry on like this. I can’t let you hurt who you are. I’ve seen this darkness. I fought with it. I’ve been consumed by it.”

She held her hands up, closing them into fists as she swayed.

“And...and it’s because of that...that I can’t let you make the same mistakes I did.”

“...Grace...”

“...you’re a better person than I ever was, Nicholas. Take it all out on me. Every single bit. I’m not gonna...let you ruin who I know you are...for my sake...”

“......Grace......”

Skathimon held her arms up, staying still, focusing entirely on Herlathimon. For a moment neither of them moved, holding firm against the other.

Then the shadows shifted all around, and without warning Herlathimon dropped downwards to his knees. Skathimon straightened up, watching as the warrior king placed his hands against his hands against the side of his head. He bent backwards, and screamed to the heavens,

His voice pierced the darkness, driving even Skathimon back. It rang out, breaking glass and making the rooftops shake; a scream of rage and sorrow that shook everybody who heard it, even at a distance, down to the very core.

Then it died away, and Herlathimon slumped forwards, the shadows pooling around him. They reached up, pulling at his armour plating and crumbling it to ashes, until only a single shadowy figure remained. And even the shadows fell away, leaving Nicholas, both eyes closed and shoulders shaking, with Yethmon collapsed at his knees.

Skathimon looked down, her own breaths mixing with the young man’s chokes. She strode forwards, her own body splitting apart, and she held her arms around him, clutching him to her chest. The embrace was cold, but Nicholas reached out, grabbing onto her and clawing at her armour, trying to find somebody to hold close, closer than he’d ever held someone before.

Slowly Skathimon dissolved in his grasp, releasing motes of frost that fell all around. Within minutes Grace was knelt there, holding her shaking boyfriend in her arms, as Vulpimon sat attentively beside her, barely able to keep her eyes open as her body flickered in and out of existence. But Grace focused entirely on the boy in her arms, holding him tightly, bearing his pain on top of her own. He opened his mouth, letting out breathless cries.

“I’m...I’m sorry Grace...I’m so, so sorry...”

Grace could barely hear him, even as she gently patted his shoulder, and enveloped her body around his, almost like a cocoon. She looked sideways, and saw Vulpimon looking up at her, the fox clearly out of breath and run ragged by the whole affair. But she said nothing, allowing Grace her moment of support from the young man she was so sure she loved.

Eventually the girl buckled over, burying her head in Nicholas’s shoulder, allowing herself to submit to his embrace as much as he had to hers. She stared ahead, barely able to keep her own eyes open. Vulpimon padded forwards, nuzzling the girl’s side.

“Are you okay?”

“...no...”

The fox bit her lip, trying to see into Grace’s eyes, but they were turned away from her, all colour lost in the gloom.

“I haven’t been okay for a very long time.”

Grace closed her eyes, giving in entirely to the sorrow before her. And yet she couldn’t fall over. She couldn’t give in. Not now. Not yet. Not ever.

“I...I don’t want to do this anymore...”

Liopramon could feel the energy stabbing him with every new leap, the pain reaching an intense level. But he didn’t stop. All he could think about was getting away, saving himself from the evisceration that threatened him with every turn.

But he was only small. And eventually his power gave up once again, and he fell tumbling down against a fence, wrenching his arm as he snapped his fingers again and again. His cap was smoking, and he tore it off, holding the tattered rag in his hands, and all the while his teeth were chattering, hard enough to make crunching sounds in his head.

He held his eyes closed, willing the hounds around him to leave him with all his non-existent power.

But the hounds had already stopped coming.

After several minutes, he opened his eyes, looking out into the darkness. Now the pain had spread throughout his whole body; a mass of lacerations and sprains that plagued him. It was all he could do to keep breathing; gulps of air that just sustained him, kept him from falling to pieces. And as he lay down, he felt those gulps of air turning into words. Just the same mantra, running over and over through his head, and spilling out into the world.

“Fuck...fuck...I don’t wanna die...not now...I don’t wanna die...I don’t wanna die...”

“You and me both.”

Liopramon held his breath, and closed up again, waiting for the inevitable death blow.

When it didn’t happen, he slowly unfurled, looking all around him. There was a puddle of something a few metres away from him, and as he watched it, it seemed to ripple and swell, trying to form a 3D shape. Gently, Liopramon stood up, and limped over, looking down at the liquid as it coagulated into a round blob. Liopramon blinked, and gasped under his breath.

“C...Caesiumon?”

The blob morphed, forming into the same gaunt, skeletal face, and looking entirely done with the world. “ I apologise. I’m not looking my best.”

Liopramon held his arm. ”What...happened to you?”

The metal head gave a weak smirk. “Got into a fight earlier. I felt a need to right a wrong. Failed miserably. Got my arse handed to me. Now re-evaluating my choices.”

Liopramon’s shoulders slumped. “These people suck.”

“It was worth a try.”

Caesiumon convulsed, and the puddle around him rippled, trying to form a solid shape and just collapsing in on itself. The head sighed, and his bulbous eyes rolled sideways.

“This is going to take a while. Can you give me a lift? I should be able to make legs again but it’ll take about an hour.”

Liopramon swallowed. But with nothing else to do, he bent down, and cradled the blob of metal in his arms, feeling a slight tingle beneath his clothes. “What do we do now?”

“We go north.”

Liopramon looked down, raising an eyebrow. Caesiumon gave a small smirk.

“There’s someone I need to meet.”

Vulpimon raised her head, sniffing the air. For a moment the view before her was pitch black. Then there was the tiniest edge of gold as the sun peeked over the horizon. She blinked, the cityscape becoming more defined as she watched attentively. Another night passed, and another new morning. And a chance to see the damage that the night had caused.

She turned around, walking back through the streets. The early morning assault had left its marks; raking claw marks in the tarmac, spires of ice piercing through the brickwork, and a scattering of data all over, dusting the ground like the faintest snow. The fox shivered, and moved into a canter, rushing up to the covered market where the two tamers had rested for the past couple of hours.

She slowed down, walking up as she saw Grace sat beside Nicholas, her eyes flickering with the barest pretence of sleep. She nodded awake as Vulpimon approached, blinking against the light; a light which while dim, was still enough to illuminate the rough wounds and grazes and dirt over her body. Vulpimon paused, unable to hide the look of shame she was wearing on her face. But Grace reached out, running her hand over the fox’s ruff, holding her tightly and saying more than any words ever could.

There was a groan beside them, and Vulpimon stepped back as Nicholas turned over, moaning in pain. One eye opened blearily, and he looked up, seeing Grace staring down at him. He remained in place for a few seconds, the events of the night ticking through his mind.

“Neither of us are dead yet, are we?”

Grace nodded. “Not for lack of trying.”

“...shit...”

Nicholas popped his lips. Then he sat up, and immediately bent over in pain, cursing under his breath. Grace held the boy’s chest, just gently enough to allow him to breath.

“Easy, easy. I...I did what I could think to do, but I’m not an expert. You’re going to need Salma or someone to look at your eye.”

Nicholas winced, raising a palm and placing it over the left side of his face. It clenched over, and he felt the wad of fabric pressed around his head and tied in place, and the horrendous stinging sensation beneath. He looked aside, and saw that Grace’s skirt was missing several strips. She’d been the one looking after him. Of course.

The girl smiled nervously. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t see properly.” Nicholas grimaced. “I feel sick. And scared. And awful in general.”

“...I’m sorry to say, but that can be fairly normal.” Grace swallowed. “I’ve...done all I know how to do on my own. But I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Nicholas ran his teeth over his lips, before shaking his head. “We...we need to get back, don’t we? They need you. The others need you.”

Grace sighed. “We’re in this together, aren’t we? They need both of us.”

Nicholas closed his eyes, his nostrils opening and closing as he slowed his breathing. Then he looked ahead, his visible eye pink and tired.

“I need an hour, please. I...need to think.”

Grace nodded, resting the boy’s phone beside him. Then she pushed herself to her feet, and began to walk away.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m sorry I put you through all this.”

Grace turned her head, aware of Nicholas’s stare behind her. He barely met her gaze, but he kept himself sat upright, almost out of duty. “You did a lot to protect me. You always have. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused.”

“You think I haven’t fucked up like that in my time? It comes with the job.” Grace nodded. “You’ll get through it. And I’ll be here to help you.”

She carried on before Nicholas could think of anything else to say. Vulpimon followed her partner a few steps, but stopped, stepping aside as she saw Yethmon sprawled out on the ground. The hound was in even worse shape than his partner, his entire body covered in red raw patches. His eyes flicked up towards the fox, and he scoffed.

“Not a fucking word.”

Vulpimon sighed. “We’re way past that now.”

“I figured,” mumbled the hound, and he raised his paws, planting them over his eyes. “You must really hate me.”

“...yeah. A bit.”

Yethmon opened his eyes, and saw Vulpimon staring at him, her eyes bright and golden, and full of fire. The fox bowed her head. “Look after him. As you promised. If you hurt him anymore, or let him hurt himself, I promise I’ll never forgive you.”

She turned, holding her nose high as she followed after her partner. Yethmon’s eyes trailed after her, and he shifted again, pushing himself up against the wall.

“Hey, mutt.”

Vulpimon paused, looking over her shoulder with a gaze that could curdle milk. Yethmon chuckled to himself.

“I thought that would get your attention.” The hound nodded. “Thank you. I mean it.”

Vulpimon raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For awakening my need to be someone worthwhile. Out of spite if nothing else.”

Vulpimon let out a breath, her ears drooping slightly. “I hope it’s enough. For Nicholas’s sake. And for yours.”

She walked away, leaving the hound staring up at the roof above him, as the beams of sunlight began to poke through. He tutted, and rolled himself over, keeping a lone eye on his partner.

“Well, guess it’s up to you and me to clean this mess up now.”

He snorted, his muzzle wrinkling.

“Arsehole.”

Vulpimon didn’t have to run far before she came across her partner, standing on the edge of the barrier and looking out across the road. In normal times it would have been a busy intersection, with the morning commute colliding full force with the school run. But now it was an eerie, empty sight, with debris blowing across the tarmac, collating on the wall on the other side, along with piles of silvery dust. Remnants of many battles past. Vulpimon shivered, sitting next to her partner as the girl leant against the barrier.

“He’s strong, Grace. He’ll pull through. However it happens.”

“I know.” The girl raised a hand, brushing a bang from her face, before opening it up in front of her and staring at her palm. “He’s stronger than I am.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. You’re the one who saved him. Just like you saved me.”

“If I’d really saved him he wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

Vulpimon’s ears flattened slightly. “You really think you could have kept this life from him forever?”

There was no answer. The fox shuffled forwards, nuzzling Grace’s palm with her nose. But the girl didn’t react this time, not running her hand over Vulpimon’s head like she usually did. The fox looked down, her eyes dimmer than usual.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. It’s what I do, isn’t it.” Grace sighed. “Maybe...maybe it would have been easier if he’d found out and just...just dumped me then and there. Just walked away. I’d understand. I wouldn’t want to be around me either.” She glanced aside. “But he’s better than me. He stayed and he worked and he fought alongside me.”

Vulpimon drew in a breath through her teeth. “Yes but...why. You know he did it for himself, right? Not for you, or for any of us.”

Grace turned around, and crouched down, running her fingers down Vulpimon’s shoulder. “You really think I was so selfless when I started? The amount I put you through?”

Vulpimon flinched. “That’s different. You were trying to do the right thing. You saved my life...”

“You were part of me last night, Vulpimon. We both know what I’ve always been thinking. It was a chance to be honest for the first time.”

Grace pressed her lips together. “I’ve been using him, Vulpimon. Just as much as he was using me. I thought I could keep him away from all this. From the darkness I’ve fought with. But I guess that’s never going to change.”

The girl gave a half-hearted laugh. “Maybe this is the sign. If he’s going to fight, perhaps I need to be the one to guide him from behind, and to pull him back when he goes too far. To help him be a better hero than I ever was.”

Vulpimon swallowed. “Grace, they...everyone still needs you. I still need you-“

“You’re not making this easier!”

Vulpimon stepped back, hearing her partner’s voice crack with emotion. The girl composed herself, before gripping the rail before her.

“I...I can’t keep this up. I don’t want to abandon everyone, but...I’ve fought as a tamer for as long as I can. And he has more will and ability than I ever did. I could step back, Vulpimon, and I could help him. And I...I might have a chance to love him. And to be the person I wanted to be...”

She lowered her head, burying her head in her arms. “God, I’m sorry. I’m such a piece of shit.”

Vulpimon looked up sadly, watching her partner’s hair blowing in the wind. But she stayed sat close, leaning her head against Grace’s legs. Grace looked over her wrists, staring out into the dawn light.

“I won’t leave any of them now. I’ll keep fighting until the end of this. Until HelMidgarmon is gone. But after that...after all of that...”

Vulpimon let out a small hushing sound, pressing further into her partner’s leg.

“You’ve done more for us...for me...than we could ever have asked for. Whatever you want to do, whoever you want to be, I’ll stand by you. Until the end of the world. I owe you more than you could ever know.”

“...thanks, Vulpimon.”

Grace smiled, and reached down, running her hand over the fox’s neck. Vulpimon closed her eyes, letting off a small rumbling growl of contentment. A moment with the most important person in her life. Grace felt it as well; the tingle of frost edging through her. But even that was suddenly tainted by the changing wind, accompanied by the howl of a distant monster, spinning in the air, held in place by an ever unravelling thread. Grace’s hand tightened against the rail, gripping it hard enough to leave marks in her skin.

“The world’s not going to end just yet. I’ll make sure of it.”