2017-05-20: The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny

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  • Log: The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny
  • Cast: Zed, Claude C. Kenny
  • Where: Adlehyde Besieged
  • Date: 20 May 2017
  • Summary: Zed and Claude meet in the streets of Adlehyde, and have a perfectly reasonable and rational discussion.


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

Claude C. Kenny has had a bad few hours. Then again, so has most of the city of Adlehyde. After the shock of the initial attack wore off, he and several other Drifters fought their way through the city to reach the keep, to which survivors and defenders both are rallying. Claude had been certain that this was where Rena Lanford would be, using her powers to heal the injured and otherwise assist the defenders. He was wrong, though - none of the court recalls seeing a blue-haired elven healer girl, which even for this city would be a pretty remarkable sight.

And so within an hour of entering the Castle, Claude is back over the walls and into the city, moving alone. Despite the seeming risk of this plan, this is actually a percentage move for Claude; with no witnesses in sight, he can drop the pretense of being just another Drifter and use his Federation technology more openly. After a few short minutes setting up a scanning protocol on his tricorder to differentiate human and near-human life signs (many, but decreasing in number) from the non-human ones of the Metal Demons (many, with more arriving every minute), and then a few seconds slipping the contact-lens heads-up display into his left eye, he has a short-range but effective early warning system. It'll reveal his location to anyone with the tech and the brains to rack his scanning frequency, but in this city at this time, that's a risk he's willing to take.

Claude has spent the last twenty minutes moving through the city under cover, evading Metal Demon groups and popping in to offer advice to civilians (usually variations on 'find a safer place' or 'run to the walls'). Every now and again when he spots a flier (Metal Dragon, he thinks Ida called them), Claude surfaces long enough to fire a shot and then vanish back into the streets. It's not much damage, but any little bit helps - and if the Metal Demons continue to own the skies, then the defenders of Adlehyde wil have no chance at all.

The occasional shouts of 'Air Slash' may make it easy for people who know him to track him down, as well - he's hoping Rena notices. It's the only hope he has, so he'll cling to it.

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

Claude is not alone in Adlehyde.

A disturbingly familiar figure has been spotted amongst the Metal Demon hordes. While the drifters who visited the city in recent days are many in number and while they often had their peculiarities, few were quite as... strange as the mossy-haired young swordsman named Zed.

But in all the days he's been here, while he's been strange, disruptive, and plain old weird, he's also been a friend to Adlehyde's children, a savior of the King of Lacour, and a generous benefactor of the reconstruction of a certain Etone orphanage.

And yet, he's been seen not fighting against the Metal Demons, but... Running alongside them.

It's been disturbing. Distressing. But even so, in the chaos, it could be something else. In the fury and the din, it's unlikely for Claude to have heard many of these rumors, especially so early in the campaign.

But he is not alone in Adlehyde.

His air slash splits a metal beast in two, clearing the last of the monsters from an alleyway. It seems as though the road ahead is clear.

But there's a shadow in the murk.

One that resolves, as it steps into the light, into the form of a certain, familiar rival.

"Claude!" Zed says with a tired grin, "It looks like you've had a pretty rough day."

<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

Claude C. Kenny grounds his sword after the last of the beasts falls, taking a moment to lean against a nearby wall. Both it and the blade are pretty much holding him up at the moment; he's expended a lot of energy in the past several hours, and the brief rest break at the Castle was barely enough time for him to take in some water and a bit of food. It's been a long day. It's getting longer. But Rena's still out there, and so are a whole mess of people worse off than he is.

The shadows move, and Claude wearily lifts his blade into a guard position, drawing it back to strike--

"Zed!" Claude smiles broadly, relief washing across his expression. "Oh, thank God you're here," the young blonde swordsman says. He leans back against the wall and laughs, taking a moment to run a hand down his face, smearing traces of plaster (from three buildings ago) and dried blood (from Yarobeleedt) but not doing much to clean it. "Holy hell, Zed, they're everywhere. It's... the instructors said it would be bad, but I didn't know it would be this bad." For all the training and practice, for all the education at the Federation Academy, and for all the chaos of dungeons and Digs, this is Claude C. Kenny's first true war. He's been keeping his emotions bottled up inside, but with Zed here - with a trusted blade at his side - Claude can relax for just an instant, take the edge off. Just for a minute. "Listen, I'm looking for my friend Rena. I've told you about her - blue-haired elf girl. She's out here somehwere, and I've got to find her." He's babbling, he knows, but Zed's appearance has disturbed the balance of adrenaline and anger that's kept him focused so far. Zed's appearance...

...his appearance...

It's then that Claude realizes exactly what he's seeing - the sight of his familiar, certain rival, green-haired and fanged and solid, grinning wearily at him. Except through his left eye - the one with the HUD - he's seeing all of those things but with a figure outlined in red. Not green, for human or near-human. Red.

(Infiltrators. They had agents here the entire time.)

Hope vanishes from Claude's face, to be replaced by shock. Then disbelief. And then bone-heavy weariness.

"Oh God, Zed," he groans. "Not... not you."

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

Infiltrators, is that what they're calling them?

Well. That's not too inaccurate for some of the members of this expedition team. For the others... 'Infiltrating' isn't really the right word. 'Having a great time,' closer. 'PARTY TIME, EXCELLENT' even closer.

"Yeah, I know," Zed says with unusual fatigue in his voice. "This," he glances upwards at the plumes of smoke wafting from the city and the firelight flickering against those enormous, ominous clouds. Adlehyde is burning. "This isn't even a fight. It's more of a massacre."

He frowns, turning his eyes down, then. "At least the moon is full. It's a good night otherwise, no? The best possible kind of night, with the worst possible kind of situation."

Those words, coming from this face. They're not too strange-- but the light in that lens is undeniable, and that red glow casts everything he says into a sinister light. Zed scratches idly at his cheek. "I remember you mentioning her before. I don't think I've seen her out there yet, but I'll keep an eye out for her if you want me to."

There's a pause, then.

Zed's gaze falls on his rival's. A chill runs down his spine. Claude's face... He knows. He knows? He knows. "Ah." Zed chuckles, "I guess, ah, you probably figured it out, no?"

"Well, don't worry, friend! This." Zed gestures at the city, "Is a disaster. I don't like a massacre. And I don't like the idea of fighting someone I like when they look like they've just danced with a dozen angry beasts. So. Ah. It's up to you, I guess, what you want to do from here."

Doom Bringer glistens ominously in the firelight.

"I wouldn't mind," he says. "One more fight, between friends. But I'd prefer if you weren't about to fall over."


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

It's Zed's mannerisms more than his words or even the cold, hard truth of the tricorder readings that convinces Claude C. Kenny that his rival is what he suspects him to be... and is entirely genuine in what he's saying. Zed is speaking in complete sentences, at a conversational tone. He hasn't screamed about the true worth of a man, or quoted an obscure animated show. He's... not happy with how things are going. But he's a Metal Demon. And he's standing with his kind.

"God damn it, dude," Claude says, closing his eyes and resting his head back briefly against the stone. "I can't believe you're... there are people /dying/ out here, Zed. Every minute, a few more people die. I can't..." He sucks in a breath. Holds it. Lets it out. Opens his eyes and places his sword atop a chunk of rubble. For a moment, it looks like he may want to talk this out. But then he reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small cloth-wrapped package, tied closed with a string and bound by a clay seal engraved with Symbol; Claude breaks the seal with his thumb, and the smell of well-roasted steak wafts out. He takes off his gloves, picks the meal up in sweat-drenched hands, and begins to eat.

(Back in the first-year Academy lecture hall, Major Rodriguez continues to address the crowd. "The mission comes first," he lectures. "This means that the needs of the Federation, your unit, and your subordinates outweigh the personal needs of the individual officer. Officers fulfill their missions without expecting rewards or personal recognition," he says.)

"I get not wanting to take part in this," Claude says between bites, not looking at Zed. The next time he does, they're going to be enemied. "I guess, like it or not, you've got a job to do." He opens his mouth and continues to eat.

(Weeks later, in another lecture. "Personal courage involves doing the right thing in all situations," Lieutenant-Colonel Anderson says, his cane tapping against his artificial legs. "It may mean defending someone weaker or refusing to be a party to a dishonorable act. At times, you may have to take a stand that doesn't win you a popularity contest among your peers. Regardless," the old man snarls, "Each of you is responsible for developing and maintaining your moral and physical courage.")

"I think, if I was in your shoes, I'd tell them to go pound sand," Claude says, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand and tossing the wrapper to the ground. He pulls his glove back on. "But if you can't, then... okay," he says. "I don't have to like it. But I've got to stop you." Claude picks up his sword and lifts it up, loosening his shoulders. The food's keeping him from cratering out, but he doesn't have much left. That doesn't matter. He raises his nameless, sinclair-hilted broadsword, plain and unassuming next to the malevolent wrath of Doombringer. That doesn't matter either. He looks up, sees his rival outlined in red.

("If you don't know what else to do," Ilia Silvestri-Kenny says, arms crossed over the battered body of her only son and student, "Just punch the dude in front of you until they run out of dudes, or you run out of punches.")

"ZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!" Claude screams as he charges forward, his sword tip striking sparks as it grazes against the alley wall.


<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

"Do you think I like how things are going?" Zed says, a shudder surging up his back an into his shoulders. "They stop at nothing. Children. Helpless civilians. They haven't seen like we have. They don't know what is and what is not a soldier. To the rest, every human is dangerous. Every human could pick up an ARM." His hands ball up into tight, painful fists. "It's disgraceful, there's no... No honor in it. No glory. I've been doing what I can, but--"

But ultimately, he is a Metal Demon.

"But I'm Hyadean."

Hyadean?

"So I do what I can, within what I'm able to do. If they find you, they'll wear you down. They'll beat you until you can't move anymore, and they'll break every bone in your body until you'll never get up again."

Claude charges. Zed's golden eyes flash with sharp, terrible purpose, reflecting the sparks cast by his Destined Rival's blade.

"This much--" Zed roars, surging forward to meet him. "--I can do! I can get to you before anyone else can!"

Zed leaps. Can't stay on the ground, he can punch it into spikes. He darts onto a wall-- need to retain his footing. Claude can summon a dragon punch and blast him out of the air.

Zed moves with unnatural speed. His legs are in perfect condition, even among Metal Demons. He ricochets from alleyway wall to alleyway wall, bouncing down into the wake of Claude's charge. He pivots about one foot, surging in.

Doom Bringer is swung.

"LET'S GO! CLAUDE!"


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

The downside of your regular sparring partner turning out to be an adversary is that they get to know your tricks better than you do. Zed vacates the ground about half a second before Claude C. Kenny was about to smash it into spikes, in an attempt to break up his charge; the blonde swordsman grimaces and cancels out of the killer move, instead whipping his sword upward. "AIR SLASH!" he roars, but Zed is gone again; the vacuum blade smashes into the wall, spraying chunks of stone and timber down the alleyway. Claude bites off a curse and tries to track Zed, but the Metal Demon (Hyadean) is moving faster than he ever has before. He needs a few seconds to adjust.

He doesn't get them, because Zed is suddenly down and behind him, Doom Bringer swinging at his back. Too fast to avoid, no time to think. He'll have to take it. Claude grits his teeth and bunches his right shoulder and side, the Hyadean blade whistling up to carve into his body from behind, disembowelling and killing him.

Except instead it hits something like solid titanium, as the armoured weave of Claude's Federation jacket and shirt harden in response to the slash.

The impact carries through, slamming into the blonde-haired swordsman's body; Claude screams in pain but turns left, into the direction of the strike, his left hand blazing red as he tries to backfist Zed in the face before he has time to recover from the cut. The crimson power explodes in a burst of fire, and then Claude leaps up and backward, raising his sword with a pained expression to fire a barrage of Air Slashes down at---

(three green-limned outlines, cowering in the corner of the building behind Zed)

"Damn it!" Claude snaps, then hits the rooftops and breaks into a run, hopping from roof to roof toward the edge of the city. Toward the walls.


<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

These two are more than just opponents. They are rivals. They know one another's skills better than each knows his own. Or, that's how it was supposed to be. Zed does not know how to hold back very well; but he does hold back. His speed, ridiculous though it was, was being restrained by the knowledge that pushing too hard could jeopardize...

Well. Everything.

But today, he has no reason to pull any punches.

That's the other good thing about a proper rivalry. You know how much your opponent can take. Zed has seen Claude survive far more than a single solid blow to the back.

He doesn't, however, expect him to survive... That well.

Zed's world goes red when Claude's fist connects with his skull. A tremendous explosion erupts all around him. It would be enough to pop a man's brain right out of his head, strip all the flesh from his face, punch straight through eardrums and turn a mouthful of teeth into powder and suffering.

The smoke clears as Claude leaps back.

Zed's face is...

Scorched. Smoldering, but not burnt to a crisp.

His skull is intact.

His eyes haven't imploded.

They're staring into his opponent's soul...!

Zed leaps, chasing up after the mysteriously sturdy spaceman. That makes two here, tonight. It's practically poetry.

Also practically poetry: the light blazing to life around Zed's off-hand, surging up the length of his blade. He swings as he pursues, lances of concussive, brilliant energy surge out from Doom Bringer's gleaming edge.

He lunges, catching his footing, and winds back for another swing.

But this one... Disgorges a gout of raw shadow-stuff. Misfortune distilled. Aura of Zed.

Light and Darkness.

HATE, AND LOVE.


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

Claude was sure that backfist wouldn't be the end of it; he knows how much Zed can take. The first time they fought, he hit the green-haired swordsman with a kick to the head which (while it was pulled, and pulled hard) would have dropped most men in one shot. Instead, what Claude got was a sprained tow, a loud 'bong' sound and a suddenly much more excited rival. He probably should have put more thought into that. He probably should have put more thought into a lot of things.

Claude flips his sword over to his left hand, reverse-gripping it thanks to the basket hilt, and then pulls the Everstead-Rey repeater from his leg holster as he runs. He doesn't expect bullets to hurt Zed either - hell, he doesn't expect to /hit/ Zed when they're both running this quickly - but stray rounds are all the retaliation he wants to risk until he's in an area that's totally clear of civilians. For a few seconds the Hyadean and the Earthling are a pair of darting shadows moving across the rooftops, Doom Bringer shockwaves and the brief, brilliant sparks of revolver fire providing short bursts of illumination. Three hundred yards, Claude thinks as he leaps over another lance of force, firing a shot that misses Zed by a good ten feet. He lands and rolls out of the way of another, putting the next round past the Metal Demon's ear. Two-fifty, he thinks as he drops down from the rooftops to evade a third slash, then takes up to the skies again. Two---

The sudden surge of light and shadow draws Claude's full attention, and he realized Zed's played him - in mid-air, he can't dodge what's coming. He can only take it, and take it he does, bringing left shoulder and sword up in a reversed guard, screaming as he absorbs the worst of the blast, tenebrous tendrils of darkness clawing at his spirit... and then goes flying, blasted backward, trailing smoke as he soars through the air.

As he passes the spires of the Cathedral of Granas, Claude whirls suddenly and kicks the head off a leering gargoyle, sending a foot-wide chunk of marble hurtling toward his pursuer. Claude grits his teeth and lands hard, bouncing twice before sliding forward; he stumbles up and keeps moving. His revolver is gone, dropped somewhere in the broken streets of Adlehyde's capital. He doesn't care, though - he's fifty yards from the walls, and closing.


<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

Zed's pursuit is interrupted, however briefly, by an unfamiliar noise. No, that's not quite right. He's heard it many times before. He's been on the receiving end of it. But never from Claude. A gunsmoke. It's hard to say when the humans of Filgaia developed their own ARMs, but it's almost certain that the study of Demonic weaponry advanced their knowledge on how to wield those weapons considerably.

Zed quietly hopes that weapon doesn't have Demon in it, or he might have to actually get properly angry.

Bullets rip through the air. Flashes of molten steel and sparks of shredded, oxidizing metal spread their glow across Doom Bringer's wide face. Zed parries, he swipes the shots out of the air. What he doesn't deflect, he dodges. What he doesn't dodge, he absorbs.

One tears across his face, cutting a thin, quicksilvery line along his cheek.

As if there were any further need to underscore what Claude already knew.

The chase continues apace. Zed whispers quiet curses as flexile wings beat overhead and black plumes of flak explode even beyond that. A Metal Beast explodes through the building they were running across. Zed leaps.

Claude throws a gargoyle's head at him.

Zed grits his teeth. Rears back...

And slams HIS head into it.

Marble shatters into tiny fragments. More flecks of quicksilver blood drop from a gash along his hairline, but it never reaches his eyes. That headband he wears is proving its worth.

Zed lands and fluidly transitions into roll, twisting and pivoting in mid-air to continue his rush. He darts by the grand, cathedral doors. A trio of men struggle to force it shut ahead of a horde of metal monsters.

Zed...

Stops.

And backhands the door.

It slams shut with a solid roar. Satisfied, he continues his pursuit-- but the delay buys Claude precious few sec--

                      Secret Sword - Lightning Flash

Zed vanishes into a haze of motion. He darts forward, Doom Bringer hewing a crackling, arcing line through the air. Claude is ahead. Claude is /right there./

With all his speed, with all his strength, Zed drives home what could be a lethal blow...!

With... The back of his blade.


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

There's no need to underscore what Claude C. Kenny already knows - Zed is something other than human, outlined in brilliant crimson and leaking mercurial fluid instead of blood.

There's no need to underscore what Claude C. Kenny already knows - Zed is taking seconds away from the fight to help the humans his people are slaughtering.

There's no need to underscore what Claude C. Kenny already knows - he has absolutely no idea what is going on any more. His only job is to survive it.

The Earthling soldier lands upon the ramparts a few seconds before Zed catches up to him, and spends those few precious moments sucking oxygen into tortured lungs, trying to ignore the cracks of agony spreading through his right side, where Zed hit him the first time. Claude swallows as Zed lands, and carefully measures his remaining reserves. He's got to be careful - he's got maybe two good shots left to throw and not much besides, so he can't afford to waste energy. But when the Hyadean streaks forward, there's no time to think of anything but survival, and so Claude drives his foot down, stone spikes blasting up from the walls to interpose themselves between two two combatants. Zed tears through them like they're not even there... but they are there, slowing progress for a half a second, maybe less.

Enough for Claude C. Kenny to bring his nameless sword up in a vertical block, his left forearm pressed against the back of the blade, metal creaking as Doom Bringer presses inward. The force of the blow drives Claude backward, muscles straining and lightning crawling across the wall; his muscles swell as he forces a disengage, then lashes out at Zed's chest.

For the next several seconds it's just an endless series of parries, dodges, and ripostes, sparks flying as the swordsmen clash, again and again. To an outside observer, they might seem equal. But while Claude C. Kenny is young and fit and supremely trained, he has been fighting and running for hours now. He's bound by no Limiter forged of alien technology or biotics - only the limits of mortal flesh, which he is fast approaching. Every parry and counter comes a sliver of a second slower than the last, and Claude knows it's going to end soon. He's got two shots left, and he needs to throw them.

Claude's next parry is intended to be a sliding block, allowing him to step inward, but Doom Bringer carves four inches of steel from the edge of his broadsword, nameless steel finally giving way to Hyadean fury. The young man from Earth roars his defiance, driving the sword into the stone and then releasing it, his hands coming up, lit with blue-tinged chi, arms blurring as they streak forward.

And then with red as well, a move Zed has seen once before, in the heart of the Hollow, on the back of a Hydra.

Claude C. Kenny presses forward, his arms vanishing, fists exploding in a series of crimson blasts, staccato explosions ringing out from atop the walls. "BURSTING... METEOR... KNUCKLE.... PALMS!" Claude screams, each word an effort as he strikes and strikes and strikes.


<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

It was a brilliant maneuver. Shattered segments of wall, sharpened to lethal points, erupt from underneath the alien swordsman. They could have stopped a horse. They could have IMPALED a horse. Zed, at maximum speed, tears through through them. More blood leaks from fresh wounds, but they're nothing he can't fight through. Take the pain. Channel it. Let pain become power.

Sword meets sword. Steel meets steel. But only one of these blades is Doom Bringer. The blade, origins unknown even to those aboard the Photosphere, thirsts for blood and radiates misfortune. The fel artifact cleaves through Claude's humble blade. He carries through the blow, Doom Bringer's tip wedging itself half a foot deep into solid stone.

It seems, for one terrible instant, that Zed is... Completely open.

Claude takes the initiative. His hands blaze with a fury that Zed has only seen once before. When he last did this, Claude exploded through the heart of a corrupted Hydra.

A direct hit would shatter even Zed's defense, tear through his chest, render his body a mere inert pool of unliving metal.

Zed moves.

His hands reach out.

They meet with Claude's, palm to palm. Pure power blasts up through Zed's arms, tearing the back of his armored combat suit to shreds. Hairline fractures, glowing with deep, blue power begin their long, painful journey from Zed's hands, down his forearms and up into his shoulders, into his torso, across his face. "Claude, I..."

He takes in a breath. "Want to..."

He stares into Claude's eyes. "...Show you..."

And releases. "Everything...!"

"I've been working towards...!" The flow reverses. Down his left arm, a tremendous, blinding wave of light, pure and invincible. The brilliance of his soul that rejects the possibility of defeat.

Down his right arm, a cascade of impenetrable darkness. Raw and distilled misfortune and ill-omen, the heritage, the disaster that follows in his wake, no matter where he goes or how far he runs. "You're the second to see..."

The twin powers reach his palms. Blue and gold and murky violet mix and intertwine. "As I refine this...!"

Two powers become one...

                       "Experimental Technique...!"
                   -=Event Horizon - Hell and Heaven=-

...And explode.


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

Zed's hands meet with Claude's, and for a moment the young Federation officer thinks he's won. Zed is a swordsman, not an all-around fighter, and Claude has no idea why the Metal Demon would willingly drop his blade and etner close-quarters range.

And then he finds out, as power begins blazing down the Hyadean's arms. Claude screams with fury, forcing his chi against Zed's malevolent energy, only to find the former wanting. For an instant he can hold it back and then no longer, blue-red energy wilting in the face of light and darkness. He's failing.

(told you so)

"Shut up," Claude sobs.

(so much for the hero's son)

"SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!" Claude screams, throwing the last dregs of his energy into the struggle, pushing back with his every ounce of spirit, every ounce of will, his every strand of sinew. His every everything.

It's not enough.

The event horizon explodes and Claude is sent hurtling backward, his limp body carving a furrow through the stones just inside the walls, until he finally collides with the exterior of the Church of Granas, the stones cracking but holding against the force of his impact. Bleed, Ida Everstead-Rey told Claude C. Kenny, and she's getting her wish now - his hair is scorched and burned, the left side of his face little better, and crimson blood is slowly seeping out from under his shirt, where clearly /something/ has poked through his skin. He lies there, limp and drained, his head lolling back, staring at the skies. No ship coming to save him, only fire and agony. No last-second teleport. No energy, no will to fight. Whatever else Claude thought he was, he's tried himself against Zed's power and been found wanting. He's got nothing left to throw...

(A small, hard pain jabs into Claude's left side, under his arm.)

...except the one thing he can't.


<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

The event horizon explodes. Of the many (read: very, very, very few) things Zed had planned for, dealing with an explosion of that magnitude was not necessarily one of them. Explosion Protocols were a thing that he took seriously, just because he tended to run into them frequently in his line of work. IF explosion: THEN turn away cooly tends to be the general thrust of things.

But, caught in the heart of his own explosion, Zed is sent flying.

He lands, hits the ground, bounces, and then hits the ground again, skidding to a sudden halt as the lingering side-effects of unleashing so much power in such a short time hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wanted to show Claude everything that he had.

It was... Only right.

...

Still. He can move. He can get up, stand on his own two feet. That's more than can be said for his opponent. Zed makes his way over, the ache in his muscles reminding him that, yes, you actually did push yourself too far this time.

Was it worth it?

Zed stands over Claude's nearly unconscious form. There was a lot of damage. Maybe... Maybe too much damage, for a planet like this to be able to heal. Zed frowns, he went too far. But...

He dips to lift the broken swordsman off the ground, taking him with both arms. "I saw a camp out beyond the walls," Zed murmurs, turning to the smoldering ranchlands beyond. "I can take you that far. If... I find Rena. I'll try to... To make sure she reaches you again."

"I'm sorry, friend," Zed says, then, making his way to the precipice of the battered rampart. "That all of this had to happen."


<Pose Tracker> Claude C. Kenny has posed.

After all the stress and horror and pain and death and confusion of the last several hours, after all the worry about the fate of his friends and the sure and certain knowledge that so many people won't make it, after the disappointment of trying and failing to carry the fate of the city on his shoulders... Zed apologizing is what finally pushes Claude over the edge. His head lolls forward, his hand drops down to his lap, and he nearly passes out as Zed picks him up. He's broken and tired, and there is exactly one thing that can save him right now - the very person he's spent the last several hours trying to find.

"Memory Cube," he sputters. "Tell... tell her..."

Consciousness fades as a grey haze washes up over him; he struggles but finally succumbs.

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

"Don't worry," Zed murmurs as Claude finally loses consciousness. "I will. I'll find her for you." He leaps from the wall, scarf billowing in the breeze. Explosions blossom in the sky far above.

This is only the beginning of the war.

How many more lives will it take before it's satisfied?