He is everywhere.

At blinding speeds, Varsis and Casari danced upon the rafters, their blades exchanging powerful blows. To an uneducated observer, it would have seemed that the combatants had skills far above the average swordsman, and neither could gain advantage over the other. While the first part was true, the second… It was not.

Varsis was not holding his own against Casari. He was just barely keeping up. Casari fought as if Varsis was the source of all his rage. And he had no even used his powers, yet. He was dominating through pure swordsmanship.

Varsis had lasted half a minute, so far. He doubted he could last the whole minute.

Clang. Crack.

Varsis leap from one beam to another, his metal hand holding out the Symbol behind him, as a ward. The Symbol did not seem to be working, even as Casari came after him, unhindered.

On a thicker beam now, one perhaps four feet wide, Varsis spun around, to face Casari. It was clear he could no longer run.

Casari stopped, evaluating. He took careful, slow steps, at Varsis, even as Varsis waited for him.

To the casual observer, it might have seemed as if Varsis had a death wish. He did not. He merely knew the only way he could win this fight.

There was a power, within his left hand, his steel hand. If he thought hard enough, unlocked the right mental barriers, that energy would flood Varsis, and make him as strong as a golem, strong enough to defeat Casari.

And yet, he hesitated. He had only used the power once before, and that had resulted in the deaths of a dozen skilled warriors. There was no doubt the power was real. However, it imposed upon Varsis the senses of a golem, along with the strength. There would be no doubt in his mind anymore, until the surge wore off.

If he used the power, he would be giving himself full over to Hisa, no longer able to even think contrary to her whims.

Varsis had only used the power once before, but when he had recovered his senses, he realized how truly horrible his golem thoughts had been. He did not want to give himself up to Hisa, again.

And yet, Casari continued to advance.

Stop it, man! It’s the only chance you have of winning!

It was in that moment that Varsis gave himself to Hisa, mind, body, and soul. He gave himself up to evil greater than demons, for at least demons could think for themselves. And he did it all, willingly.

He was the monster now, not Casari.

Varsis did not physically grow, but a change filled him. Casari noticed the change at once, stopped his advance, and shifted to a guard position.

But now, it was too late for him.

Varsis sprang forward. Night’s Gale danced in his right hand, even as he dropped the Symbol, from his metal left. Religion was unnecessary here. He already had all the tools he needed, to win.

As he sprang, Varsis’ metal fingers grew claws a foot long. He raked them at Casari, who barely dodged.

Leap. Slam. Crash. Cut.

Casari’s strength paled in comparison to Varsis.

Hisa’s will shall be served. All agendas.

Casari retreated across the beam, ever faster. He was running out of room, before the beam terminated, against the wall.

You are pathetic, demon. It is a wonder you ever frightened small children. Varsis entertained himself, by considering the best way to deal with Mai, when this was done, the way that would most make up for her having a moment of hope. Perhaps he should hang her in chains, above one of the pots, and leave her there to slowly bake, from the fumes.

Hisa’s will shall be served. All agendas.

Casari’s back was to the wall now, figuratively, and literally. He still had not used his demonic powers, even though it was clear he had no chance of defeating Varsis without them.

There was one more brief flurry of swords, and then, Varsis’ metal claws ripped Casari’s chest, causing gashes.

Casari winced in pain, and his great sword, Aurasing, clattered to the ground of the beam, even as he, himself, dropped to one knee.

Varsis could have ended Casari right then, with one more rake of his claws, but he knew Hisa would was to defeat Casari mentally, as well. And so, he tried.

“Why are you here?” Varsis asked. “Why did you gamble your life, and fail, in an attempt to save a human girl? Are you mad for love, demon?”

“It seems you have gotten the better of me,” said Casari, through gritted teeth. “That rarely happens, though it does seems I am off my game, as of late. Nonetheless, I applaud you.”

Varsis wondered why Casari gritted his teeth. Demons did no feel much pain from mere flesh wounds. Perhaps Casari was so madly in love with Mai, that he had decided to emulate her.

Varsis decided he was done with the conversation. Casari’s statements were twisted. He would end this, and move on.

He raised his claws, for a final slash.

And then something happened, something he had not expected, had not anticipated. Blood dripped from Casari’s wounds.

Red blood.

Demons did not bleed blood, they bled black ichor.

And so, Varsis was faced with a truth, a truth that had somehow eluded him. Casari was human.

Casari was human, after all this time.

But Varsis cared little, even as a part of him noted that the man who was prone before him, had never been trying to destroy anything, at all.

Varsis didn’t know how Casari was human, when he was so clearly Casari as well, but it didn’t really matter.

Hisa’s will shall be served. All agendas.

“Do you know why I braided my hair, this day?” asked Casari. “I braided it, in remembrance of the long dead Ixan peoples. The Ixan were warriors, but they were also sorely misunderstood. I made my gamble, and I failed. It seems I will die misunderstood, as well.”

Casari breathed heavily, as humans tended to do. He looked so weak, before Hisa’s mighty servant.

Varsis lunged for him, one final time, intending to rip the mortal Casari open with his claws, from limb to limb, a death blow, as he knelt there, helpless.

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Casari didn’t even try to stop the blow. He closed his eyes.

Time passed slowly, so slowly, even for the bringer of death that Varsis had become. He wanted the process to end, so that he could go, and hunt Mai, and yet, it seemed to take forever for his claws to reach Casari.

Forever.

And then, as if he was the only one who was moving at a normal speed, Casari stood.

It must have been a blur, but to Varsis, it seemed as if he was the one moving slowly.

Casari picked up Aurasing, and, like lightning, blocked the rake.

Varsis was repulsed, and Casari stood tall. His flesh wound seemed to fade.

“What?” asked Varsis. “How? You’re just a man.”

“I am just a man,” said Casari. “That is all I ever was.”

“Then how can you--”

“I am Casari is Koranor,” said the other, simply. “Fate will never smile on me, and so I forge my own destiny.”

In response, Varsis could only muster up one thought.

Hisa’s will must be served. All agendas.

Casari came at him with Aurasing, and, with Night’s Gale, Varsis was able to block, but just barely.

And then Casari came at him, harder than ever before. Under the monolith blows of Aurasing, Varsis was pushed back.

Even with all the strength of a golem behind him, Varsis was pushed back, by a single man. He snarled, and fought all the harder, fought for Hisa, and for the sake of her new glory.

And there, the battle stagnated.

Neither could gain any grown on the other, upon that beam, above the machinery floor, and both were hammering the other with blows that would have felled any normal man.

Casari tried for a Reverse Dragon attack, flipping around, and throwing all his strength into a stab, but Varsis countered with Steel Grasp, would have imprisoned Aurasing, but Casari responded with Counter Sting, withdrawing, and pulling back to a guard position.

Varsis smiled. He could see Casari was getting tired. Before, all his attacks had been unknown, unpredictable. Now, Varsis could deflect them all easily.

He was pleased to see sweat building in Casari’s face, sweat, replaced by sheer terror. And sheer terror, replaced suddenly, by a--

Smile.

“I will win this,” said Casari. “Why? Because I must.”

He has a third wind, Varsis realized, too late.

Without warning, Casari leapt into the air, spiraling, until his boots slammed hard into Varsis’ face.

He fell off to the side, completely unbalanced.

And as Casari landed firmly on the beam, Varsis realized he would not.

Night’s Gale slipped out of his hand as he plummeted a hundred feet, flailing.

And then, as his body cracked, and his mind blackened, Varsis heard a phrase of words in his mind.

“I forge my own destiny.”

***

Lights on.

It seemed a dozen factory guards were chasing Mai across the factory floor. Running as fast as she could, Mai swerved around a metal pole, and then a pair of worker golems, pulling a massive wheel.

As she raced around them, Mai tripped on something, and fell, but before she had even gotten back to her feet, she was still scrambling forward.

She was running for her very life, and she had no idea how to escape.

For an Emperor’s daughter, the shouts of the men behind her were too real, only too real.

Before now, people had always told Mai what to do, and she had followed their orders. Now she was on her own.

No one stood high above her telling her what to do. And now that she had a life, again, she was determined not to lose it.

But she was afraid.

Mai’s power over flame seemed to have disappeared, even though she could think of no more an apt time to use it. She had tried, she had tried, but it was to no avail. She was one girl against a dozen men, maybe more.

She jumped over and across a conveyor belt, around the pots of molten steel, which had Casari not arrived, she would have been consigned to, by now.

And as she came over the conveyor belt, she came face to face with one of the soldiers.

It was clear he was on the fringe of the dragnet, and had not been expecting her, but nevertheless, he reacted, slashing his sword at her, to try to hem her in.

“The girl’s here!” the Makini shouted, even as he wasted seconds of her precious time.

Mai, sinking into what Broken had taught her, circled around his perimeter, doubled back, and, before the Makini knew what hit him, delivered a set of vicious kicks that crumpled him to the floor.

And yet, Mai felt no sense of victory. He was one of many, and he had slowed her down.

She ran forward, headlong.

Until she came across a group of guards, in an open area.

Mai halted, and looked about her. There were more than a dozen here, far more than a dozen, and they encircled her, even as a pair of golems lumbered over, to help.

It was overkill, for sure.

Mai had been near death to many times to count, in recent months. But now, she was sure she was dead.

She desperately tried to reach inside herself, to find that speck of power she had, and burn them to a crisp, but it was to no avail.

She was dead, or near enough.

And then, it was if salvation came from the sky. A man on a rope, attached to the ceiling, swung at her, out of nowhere, and scooped her up, up and away.

The rope arced upwards, to the platform, where this had all started. The man cut the rope, with a knife, and they both landed on the platform, on their feet.

But as soon as she touched the ground, Mai backed away, again.

For the man was Casari.

Mai was weak. She had thought to use Casari and Varsis’ distractions with each other to save herself, but now, it seemed, that would not happen.

She had grasped for hope, she had not made, it, but soon, nevertheless, she knew she would soon be able to rest.

As Casari released her, Mai backed up, until she was at the very edge of the platform, with the pots behind her. She would rather die a hideous death, than be used again.

“Don’t you dare come closer,” she said to the demon. “You will not use me any more, and you will not come near me as I die. I would have died a long time ago, if you had not tried to use me for your own ends. This is over.”

“I’m not a demon,” said Casari.

“You lie.”

There was a look on Casari’s face, one that Mai had never seen before, in response to her words. It was horror.

But Mai knew that look was a sham. She knew who he was. She knew what he was.

Mai heard the shouts of the guards, as they began to encircle the platform.

“I will not be used, anymore,” she said. “You taught me how to fight, but only so I could be a better servant. You taught me how to think for myself, but only so that I could think on my feet. And now, your plot has backfired. I am done with the charade that is life.”

“I’ve done so much,” said the demon, which, like his one-time namesake, looked completely and utterly broken. “I’ve defeated so many odds. This dream can’t end with such hypocrisy.”

He took a small step for her, as the shouts of the Makini guards drew nearer.

“Stop!” shouted Mai. “You take one more step forward, and I lean back!”

“What does it matter?” asked the demon. “You’re going to do it anyway.” He staggered, before straightening, in a sudden burst of feigned weakness. “After defeating Varsis, I don’t have enough energy left to run forward, and save you. I can’t. I’m too weak.”

A tear dripped down his left cheek, and he looked as unsteady on his feet as any mortal.

But it was a trick.

“I will see Ishad again,” said Mai. “Goodbye, Dark One.”

And she leaned back, and let herself go, allowed herself to fall into the waiting pot, and let the agony of burning alive carry her into Elysium.

As she leaned back, there was an anguished scream.

She fell.

But before she could fall far, Casari launched himself at her, and managed to grab hold of a wrist, even as he himself was dragged half-off the platform, as well.

He was on his belly, with his head, and the upper half of his torso draped off the side. He used one arm to brace himself, as his right hand grasped Mai’s left wrist tightly, refusing to let go.

She dangled, with her legs mere feet above one of the pots. The steam trickled up, and with it, came intense heat.

“Let me go!” she shouted up at Casari, who held her as if she was all he had left, in the world. Mai tried to jerk away, so that she could fall.

Casari’s words were quiet. “I’m not perfect,” he whispered. “I only pretended, because after so long, I was something again, and I wanted to be everything. I wanted to believe that surviving a thousand years of crystal prison had made me more than a man, had made me something unmatched. I was always strong, but when I came out, I thought I was something stronger. I thought I was immortal, in all but the word. I thought I was perfect, but I AM NOT!”

He shouted those words, in sharp contrast to the ones before, even as Mai still struggled against him.

“Please,” he said, fully crying now, with both eyes, coughing blood, that hissed as it fell into the waiting pot, below. “I know what I am, now. If I have been truly great, I would have never allowed Savel to hurt Ishad. I would never have been so weak, as to allow Ishad to die.”

Mai looked at him, oddly, even as she continued to struggle.

“I can’t pull you up, unless you stop resisting,” said Casari. He looked a wreck. “You’re all I’ve lived for, since I came back to the world of life. Please.”

Above him, Mai heard the sounds of boots, as the Makini guards had reached the stairs of the platform.

“If you’re not a demon, you should let go, and save yourself,” said Mai, coolly. She had to die now. There was no other way to save herself.

And with that thought, her arm, the arm Casari so desperately clung to, burst into flames, flames that did not hurt her.

Her power was back. And it would help her die.

Even as Mai could see Casari’s right hand burn, she saw him hold on. She heard him scream, but still, he held on.

“YOU ARE ALL I HAVE TO LIVE FOR!” he shouted, even as Makini reached the top of the platform, and rushed over to him, to kill him, even as Mai’s power caused his hand to slowly char away.

More words came from him, quietly, as he realized the inevitability of his predicament.

“If you must die, I will die with you.” Even as Casari continued to hold her, he closed his eyes, and tightly. The Makini, above, drew their swords, and prepared to hack at him, to cause his dead body to drop her.

One of the soldiers peered over the ledge, at the strange sight of Mai struggling to be dropped, the shrugged, and slowly drew his sword, for one clean cut, even as his fellows crowded around.

The soldier raised his sword above his head, and then hacked down, with all his strength.