The burning remains of saplings and shrubbery was an ironically cold mercy; their embers a reminder that no respite comes without cost. The second wave of enemies had come as tumultuous as the first, but no sooner had the fighting ended then more arose from the light beneath the earth.
There was no such thing as rest for the weary.
“We can’t outrun them carrying this Slayer,” she spoke, trying to control her breathing. Each of them carried an arm of the broken, unconscious mecha, its weight slowing them down enough to paint them as a target. “Evangela, can you make any more?”
“Ha..Hath been…called forth!”
Before their eyes shimmered the world in haze as two Slayers formed out of the thick, grimey air to fly directly towards their pursuing enemies. The roars of the creatures slowly became distant, as did their visage through the dense fog of dust. No sooner did their pursuers finally relent then a third Slayer, crimson in color, emerged from that dust— carrying a mecha in both arms and her back.
“Save strength where you can, Evangela. You’ve yet to master your illusions.”
“I…yes Captain.”
“Brin, likewise do not push strain onto others if you can handle it yourself.”
“………”
“You could have made quick work of them, and hesitation will mean your death.”
“Yes..I’m sorry, Chelsea…”
Their captain did not respond, opting to focus on the little visibility surrounding them. Their destination was just ahead, and if intuition was anything to go by, Chelsea thought there must not be many left of Desert Oasis. However, those that survive will have proven to be able to hold their own, unlike…
“We hath arrived— Peter!”
The girl with paint colored hair and an equally vibrant Slayer called out to the vanguard group sent by Skull Beach, a group that consisted of Lord Machina, Rebekah, and Peter. As they landed, Chelsea saw that excluding themselves and the vanguards, only a group of four Desert Oasis Slayers were left standing.
“We need as many bodies as possible.” ordered Chelsea, laying down the two Slayers she carried with Brin and Evangela following suit. “Can you—”
“Their souls have departed, Captain…”
“……………”
She looked down at the three mechas caked in mud and charred soot. It was true. One of them, the one she had carried on her back, was dead before she had even set him down. For a few seconds she also examined the one carried by Brin and Evangela, only to find that neither survived long enough to reach the others. Only the one carried on her back, who had a golden spear still in her grip, had vitals. In silence she handed her to Peter, who began doing what little he could to the massively damaged mecha.
“How were you able to tell so quickly?” she asked Brin. “Our scanners only detect the damage of Slayers. Unless glaringly obvious, the status of the pilot proper is unknown.”
“I just……knew.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“…Brin, if you know something about this Endbringer then—”
“Apologies for the interruption, Skull Beach, but we’re short on time.”
She looked to one of the four standing Desert Oasis Slayers, one who had signs of repair to his lower abdomen.
“Indeed. You are Jericho, acting captain of this Redoubt during Code One and Zero operations, yes?”
He gave a small bow. “Thank you for coming when you did, otherwise—”
She waved his words aside. “Code Zero, Chelsea. Spire Garden and a handful of others from our Redoubt will arrive but holding out for them will do us ill.” she said, speaking loud enough to where the other Slayers could also hear. “Tell us of your plan.”
The remaining eight Slayers congregated around the two of them, listening as the sound of sharp wind emanated from the horizon— from the monstrosity still absorbing the fires. Jericho took a deep breath, the vocal module in his Slayer echoing slightly from the damage.
“It’s not quite a plan but I’ve noticed three core facets to our fight: the Outsiders being summoned, those mirror-like organs on the Endbringer, and the Endbringer itself.”
“Tezcacoatl.” whispered Evangela from her multi-colored mecha. “The tenth Endbringer.”
Jericho nodded. “It was at four this morning the Commander sent word of its arrival, and if I recall her words those mirrors are the organs that allow it to mimic the abilities of Resonators…but from what we’ve seen so far I think it goes further than that.”
“Tezcacoatl grants lesser Outsiders a portion of its ability.” seethed Chelsea, as she stared at its enormous silhouette. Murmurs surrounded them, the voices of shock and epiphany. It only made sense now that the Endbringer had shown itself. The day Anon fought the Crysfiends, reports mentioned one of them having survived bombardment because it possessed an Aegis— an ability unique to his Slayer. Before that was Lia’s reckless solo fight against a Rogue, in which Electromaster was used to block signal communications.
None of it is coincidence…meaning……!
“Who was the fool from Desert Oasis that fired such an attack at it!?” snapped Chelsea, the other Resonators instantly backing away from her outburst. “Its ability is absorption and mimicry, meaning that its current state is likely preparation for using such an ability!”
“I struck it.” said a Slayer, waving off Peter’s healing.
“Rojin! Thank God…”
Chelsea narrowed her eyes. This Rojin…was the one she saved from being dragged by the Outsiders; her eyes flashed continuously with light that reflected off her golden weapon as she stood. “I, and my spear Havîn, were the ones who injured it.”
“Injured..?”
“You’re right about one thing Chelsea,” interjected Jericho, “its current state is likely a timer. Once the flames from Rojin’s ability are absorbed, it’ll be able to use her attack.”
“Then why use it in the first place!? What reckless plan did you think to follow?!”
“If it weren’t for Havîn, we would’ve been slaughtered before ever making a move!” spat Rojin, swallowing her words with disdainful acceptance. Her mecha staggered, but using her spear she supported her weight. “…no, that’s what happened. Even with Havîn, we were massacred the second the Endbringer decided to fight. My attack was preemptive, yes, but not without purpose.”
“What primitive bickering. You, Rojin— you said it was injured?”
Rebekah pointed to a gash on the side of the great beast’s hexagonal body, near its eye. One quickly regenerating with the flames being absorbed, but visible nonetheless. “I know not how much, but we must strike before it recovers.”
“There are two mirrors absorbing the flames.” noted Jericho. “If we sever those, we should be able to prevent it from using Rojin’s attack.”
“Jericho,” ordered Chelsea, “the summoned Outsiders was your first facet, yes? How will this lead us to cutting off the mirrors?”
“They’re summoned from some sort of underground light, we need a group to keep them away from those who’ll attack the Endbringer. Slayers specializing in evasion or defense.”
“An underground light…” spoke Chelsea with hesitation. But just as quickly she returned to the real world. “Rebekah, Machina, you two keep the hordes from intervening.”
“So long as I avoid a fight with that thing…”
“Relegating me to the groundlings? I’d be better suited to trouncing that abomination, but I relent.”
“Mortar, Elyu— please help them.”
“You have my word.”
“………………”
Without further delay, the four Slayers scattered into the world veiled in dust, locating and engaging once more with the Outsiders collected loosely around Tezcacoatl.
“Jericho, I’d like Peter to take the last two injured and retreat into Desert Oasis. It may serve as a base for the wounded.”
“Done. And Peter, thank you for healing me earlier…I leave the wounded to you.”
“If that is my role,” he said in a bow, “I shall see it fulfilled.”
“That leaves us.” gestured the captain to the remaining six. “The others called you Rojin, yes? You managed to injure the Endbringer— how?”
“There is no flesh my spear cannot pierce.” she said, brandishing her weapon reflecting the dull glow of embers illuminating the desert. Chelsea turned her gaze, focusing on the mirrors absorbing the fires in a swirl.
“Then you and I will each target a limb and sever it from the main body.” she said to the girl holding her spear. “Brin, Evangela— you two will clear a path through its attacks as best you can. Jericho, can you and your companion cover Rojin for her to draw close?”
“Sure. We’ll take its left side, but that still leaves four mirrors and the innumerable tendrils to account for.”
“We will deal with—!”
The dull light in Chelsea’s eyes showed her. She didn’t know how the girl, Rojin, saw it as well because the light of her eyes was different. She did not possess Prescience, yet reacted with speeds not unlike her own. Arching her back, the girl aimed her spear above, and Chelsea, unsheathing her blade, saw the dust vanish into the wind that scattered by their actions revealing a descending attack— thirty feet above them.
“Havîn— Şewitîn!”
“Caesura!”
Fear and awe filled the groups’ eyes as the brief flash of Chelsea’s sword and Rojin’s spear clashed against the breakneck speed of Tezcacaotl’s tentacle-like appendage. Though they succeeded in cutting through the limb the force of their strikes rebounded as shockwaves, slamming the Resonators to the ground as another two whips with thickness like trees pierced the dust with a momentum far from what should have been possible.
“——!” Chelsea lurched to the side, barely evading one of the tendrils as she brokenly cut through the muscle only for shouting to hail in her ears.
“Syrisol!”
The name of the Resonator whom Chelsea did not know. In a flurry she turned her eyes, watching the whip-shaped organ of the Endbringer ascend into the air with a Slayer whose armor was punctured completely through— flailing the mecha around in the sky like a kite before hurling him across the wasteland and retreating. The ordeal lasted no more than four seconds.
In four seconds the dust swallowed the Slayer, and the tentacle that threw him, whole.
“Syris……baSTAARD!”
“Focus Jericho! Make haste at once!”
“I know!”
Gesturing to Brin and Evangela, the Skull Beach group plunged into the dustland alongside Jericho and Rojin.
“Peter! He and the wounded hath not yet retired!”
“That’s not our focus now Evangela, steel yourself!”
Igniting her thrusters, Chelsea propelled herself upward and vaguely made out the shape of Jericho and Rojin doing the same. But viewing them from a distance was all she could afford.
The original plan was for them to focus on a single mirror each, but she was no more than fifteen feet in the air when a flurry of limbs materialized from the dust. With a single draw of her blade she severed the entire cluster of tendrils, using her upward momentum to guide her blade toward the rest that writhed like airborne worms. However—
“Even without the Outsiders on the ground attacking us, it’s all we can do to avoid getting hit! We underestimated its speed!”
—the radio in her ear clicked to life, an aggrieved Jericho on the other end.
“Gch— there are no openings for us to approach, and Havîn cannot pierce through its limb at this distance without consequence!”
She almost wanted to chastise them for their lack of discipline. But it was not as if she didn’t understand. This creature— how it managed to sense their locations so precisely with so little visibility was frightening, and that wasn’t even mentioning the dexterity of its attacks. Even with its attention divided among five Slayers, three of whom could be considered elite with years of experience— there was naught more they could do but evade, nevermind closing enough distance to strike.
Still, to whine so much in the midst of their life or death predicament…
“Truth be told, I expected you to complain more. Well done.”
“I can’t tell whether or not you’re praising me…”
“Chelsea your front!”
The shock of the memory nearly made her a prisoner of the Endbringer as the flesh molded itself into a net threatening to ensnare her. Evangela propelled herself forward, chopping through the thread-like muscles and allowing Chelsa to rush forward and sever the appendage-proper.
“Why?” she silently asked herself, following closely behind Brin who slashed through the soot-covered tendrils. Evangela took the lead once again, using an illusion to fake her Slayer’s image and hack through a tendril that had taken the bait. “Why did a memory of that child resurface at a time like this?”
Bearing the Prescience ability, it was a death-sentence to think of the past in the middle of battle. Her mind was already torn between seeing into the future and reacting in the present; should her focus wander and recall events from the past, the strain on her conscience would be too much.
And yet…
“……good luck…calling…the shots……”
“CHELSEA!”
Rojin’s scream barely brought her out of the past. Her muscles exploded with speed, awkwardly blocking the massive tendril plummeting on her with the flat of her blade. The sheer weight behind it was enough to knock her out of the sky like a meteorite, her body rapidly twirling in place as it dove towards the earth. But through the dizzying sight of a world meshing together was a golden spear— one she could tell was thrown directly where she would land. The explosion that followed sent waves of force upwards, erupting from the landing site just enough to slow her fall and prevent Chanteuse from shattering on impact.
A small crater surrounded her mecha, pebbles and dirt falling on her crimson armor like rain.
What frightening strength. And to think the child endured a similar strike from an Omega…
“Chelsea!” Evangela cried, landing next to her as she climbed out. Rojin followed closely behind, the golden spear somehow back in her hands. “Are you—”
“Fine.” she said, interrupting the vibrant colored Slayer. She quickly made note of Chanteuse’s damage— the hydraulics in the arm she blocked with got misaligned so her damage output would suffer, but everything else maintained combat functionality.
“This is not working.” said Rojin, the eyes of her Slayer blinking rapidly with light. “It fends us off no matter our approach and I hesitate to use my Final Day of the Summer Sun. Both because a second use would admittedly incapacitate me…and because it would kill any Slayers within range.”
Chelsea was silent for a brief moment before standing up, addressing the girl. “How did you see my fall?” she asked, disregarding her words. “No, moreover, how did you see the Endbringer’s initial attack at all?”
“Amongst Sustained Flames, I also possess Clairvoyance.” she stated, throwing her spear behind Evangela to slice through an approaching tendril, it materialized in her hand a moment later. “This dust is of no visual impairment to me.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened in epiphany. A realization at their fault…and at their chance.
She immediately pinged her radio, contacting every Resonator within range of Desert Oasis and beyond. “This is Code Zero Chelsea of Skull Beach Redoubt to all Resonators— the Endbringer has been using and copying our innate abilities.” she said heavy-laden, wondering if her words were reaching deaf ears. “It doesn't need to deal or receive damage to use our abilities, it needs only to see us use them. Given this, it…it’s likely Tezcacoatl has now copied both my Prescience and Rojin’s Clairvoyance…we were careless……”
She thought she could feel the weight of fear through the radio. It was no wonder they couldn’t get close, not even mentioning the massly-spawned Outsiders…
“H-How do we fight something that sees our every attack, from every angle, before we even have a chance to make them?”
“…By using that to our advantage.” Chelsea realigned her hydraulics as best she could, picking up her plum lilac blade once more. She thought back to her battle against the Behemoth, how trapped she felt. How even she— with all her experience— was at death’s mercy.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
No…in the grand machinations of this war, even she lacked experience. A child against a beast.
And yet, even against an Omega, that child, Anon…
“Evangela, if it’s of a weapon, how many illusions can you make?”
“I-I’m not sure…do you mean mass illusions of a sword?”
“Of a spear.”
Rojin looked on in delighted bewilderment as Chelsea requested her aid. “I can reach one of its limbs, but on my mark I need you to aim for its upper-left mirror. It will undoubtedly attack, so I ask that you defend me as I prepare.”
She slammed the butt of her spear to the ground, kicking up dust that at this point was akin to adding a drop of water to an ocean. “Havîn and I shall not let them through.”
Chelsea looked back to the Endbringer. Yes— a drop of water amidst an ocean would be their opening. But perhaps a more accurate way to describe it would be throwing a pebble against a tsunami.
Yet, even an ocean will ripple at the weight of a pebble.
“Rojin— my twelve o’clock! Evangela, six! Every Resonator still fighting on the ground, retreat!” she commanded via radio.
Ascending into the air, this time Chelsea didn’t bother attempting to get close to the Endbringer. If it sees their every move before they make it, then the solution is to attack in such a way it cannot escape, regardless of its foresight.
Beneath them, without the assistance of the other Resonators, lesser Outsiders began to hurl fire as the three were met in the air with a barrage of thick, writhing limbs. It was a surreal sight even for Chelsea to witness skin as thick as oak trees be so tensile; they squirmed in midair, changing directions almost as quickly as she could blink. The balls of fire carried with them smoke, reducing her visibility even further, and yet, she could cut through the tentacles a fraction of a second faster than it could change direction— each and every time.
And that was what struck her as odd.
Chelsea sheathed her blade, she needed to give them a moment to attack. Closing her eyes, she saw where her opponent would strike— nineteen tendrils nearly encircling the three of them. And with speeds that nearly tore the metallic shoulders of her Slayer, she cut through each and every one, using the interval to direct her words to the girl behind her. “Evangela, continuously create mass illusions of Rojin’s spear surrounding the Endbringer!”
“Yes captain!”
With the world in a brief respite, the Slayer colored in vibrant neon armor slammed her palms together, spreading them outward as tens, hundreds, and soon over a thousand golden spears appeared out of thin air, surrounding their enemy in a semicircle of glimmering, false light made hazy by the dust.
Yes. It was odd that their battle was one that boiled down to Prescience, because Clairvoyance mattered little when faced against the future. Though her enemy could see through the world, Chelsea could see through its attacks, knowing where they’d be and lacerating its tendrils with unyielding precision. But with its own Prescience, the Endbringer would see her assault and change its direction to avoid it. She in turn would see that very change and adjust her attack, as would the Endbringer, and the future would branch out ad infinitum in that same pattern. Laid bare before them. For as far as either one could see.
“Now!”
Under the shining falsified weapons, the brilliant lights appeared to merge with the air as they shot like glowing bullets towards Tezcacoatl. The moment the spears made contact with its thick flesh they disappeared, leaving behind golden sparks that were instantly replaced with more and more false weapons as Evangela heaved under the strain.
Tezcacoatl, the King Mirror. If Chelsea could cut through the limbs, it could only mean one thing: that even mirrors are bound by the reflections they copy. Reflections that give a delayed reaction— and Tezcacaotl reigned over each ability it saw.
“Rojin, I’ll only have a fraction of a moment.” she said to the Resonator whose Slayer was covered in blood. “I leave the next few seconds in your hands.”
“…your sword.” she said, speaking with her back to Chelsea. “A weapon much like Havîn— unique. Unable to be copied. Does it have a name?”
Chelsea closed her eyes. A name? And why would she need something like that for a blade, a tool? Sounds of battle filled her ears as Rojin held off the Endbringer’s tendrils, as the Outsiders on the ground frenzied, and as the earth itself whimpered in silent pain.
A name…for what reason?
The blade was part of her Slayer, yes, but it was not a person. If she can’t even remember a person’s name…
“…is forgetting……really that important to everyone here?”
That child again. His words echoed in her mind, dulling the sensations around her. She has forgotten many names for the sake of survival…and sanity. That’s what she told herself for years.
“……good luck…calling…the shots……”
Even from behind her closed eyes, light bathed the darkness surrounding Chelsea. Her sword was a part of her, like her Slayer, yet the mecha had a name.
Chanteuse. The Songstress.
She gripped the hilt of her blade. This Endbringer copied their abilities— insulting what was a part of their very souls— and killed them afterward without remorse or reason. It could insult her by copying her Prescience, yet it couldn’t imitate the actions she followed through with it.
What was the name of the Desert Oasis Resonator flung into the desert?
She clenched her teeth…she couldn't remember. He was another corpse on the hill of her memories, so what could she possibly do to honor that lost soul?
Her eyes gradually flared open. She didn’t know……but it is precisely because she is still alive in this moment that she can take action in the present! That child’s smile flashed through her mind, that smile that left the responsibility of victory in her hands; with Chanteuse as the path to her survival, she would see this creature, this monster, pay with its life!
“Rojin!”
She understood immediately, arching her back in a brutal contortion and casting her weapon across the sky. Amidst the thousands of illusions, the Endbringer did not know where the true weapon would strike, and in thus constantly seeing the future had protected each of its mirrors with thick, muscled tendrils.
What could she do to honor the dead? Each of their names were lost to time; it wasn’t enough for her to ‘fight in their stead,’ because as a Resonator that was her duty. She had to fight, regardless of who lived or died.
Then, at the very least, could she keep track of their survival? As a reminder to herself.
A record.
Bloodcurdling vibrations echoed through the air penetrating her bones— no sound escaped its body, yet she imagined those vibrations were the equivalent of Tezacaotl’s pain. In a burst of light, Rojin’s spear pierced the upper-left limb from which the mirror sprouted and absorbed the fire— a microsecond faster than the future it foresaw and drilling a hole into its stout muscle. The other tendrils rushed to protect the limb, the Endbringer peering into the future in anticipation of a continued attack, leaving the others vulnerable.
“Rojin— same spot! Evangela, falsify her attack!”
In an instant, Rojin directed her strength towards the injury as Evangela cried out, using all her strength to copy the Resonator as hundreds of Roguls glimmered into existence, each one launching her spear at a different limb. Rojin’s true spear hit its mark once more, this time blocked by the layers and layers of tendrils from the creature. It was all the time Chelsea needed.
Survival and victory. To survive is to attain victory. But with the child’s sacrificial smile etched into her mind she gripped her blade; she can’t bring herself to remember the deaths. All she could do was prevent more from piling up beneath her.
So she will bear witness to the living, recording them as arias of her survival.
Thus, the light within her sheath poured out—
“Intone, the songs atop the scarlet hill, Chansonnier!”
—and revealed upon a caliginous world a glowing, crimson blade.
“Caesura…VIRGULE!”
From Chelsea’s sword, a burning line of scarlet flashed through the air taking the form of a forward-facing slash as it dissevered the dust— as if needing all on the battlefield to see its shining existence. Like lightning colored a dark carmine, the energy that had been born within her sheath used her sword as a guide to instantly excise everything in its path. Tezcacaotl didn’t need Prescience to see it. Nobody did.
From the sundered air Chelsea saw the beast realizing its mistake too late. Having covered the wound it already had, it saw her newfound attack only moments later. It tried to block, to correct the mistake of focusing on Rojin’s spear by moving its body faster than she thought possible; its gargantuan form created dust devils out of nothing but the debris in the wind as it twisted its body to avoid the microsecond attack.
But the aria had been sung— Chansonnier its voice. And Chelsea saw the scarlet song cut clean through the limb attaching the upper-right mirror to Tezcacoatl’s main body. Shining, neon lilac blood poured like a waterfall from the empty socket, and at long, long last, the flaming mirror, the first of two organs absorbing the fires of Rojin’s ability, finally fell to the earth below.
She was about to speak when her body stopped, save her heartbeat that echoed throughout her body. A symbol.
image [https://i.imgur.com/NeATDIq.png]
She felt it resonate in her skull and eyes, instantly understanding. Not what it meant, but the myriad of possibilities from the shape taking form within her being. A wail, a proclamation…a native tongue. A language out of which formed a name.
Its name.
In that very and same instant, through her shining red eyes she saw the coming attacks of Tezcacoatl. Unsheathing her blade, her languid movements were immediately evident as the damage in Chanteuse’s hydraulics on top of the strain from her newfound attack forced her to exert herself beyond what she already had. Her body couldn’t keep up with her will to survive, and as she cut through wave after wave of the unrelenting tendrils, soon, even seeing their movements through her Prescience wasn’t enough.
Chanteuse— Chelsea, had sustained too much.
“GHA-A-AG-AHHH!!”
A tendril cleaved straight through the armor plating in her chest, erupting from the other side and dragging her through the air like a toddler playing with its doll. She felt the limb embed itself further as momentum made Chanteuse sink violently into the appendage, opening the hole already near half the size of her Slayer’s chest even more.
“Chelsea!”
“Captain!”
She recognized the voices, but could only make out one of the figures to whom it belonged. High above her, a neon Slayer dyed in hues of bright color barely evading the torrent of attacks hazing her from all sides. Evangela couldn’t cut through them, not in the way she and Rojin had been doing. The girl had to hack at the muscle, inelegantly throwing her weight on the blade to make any sort of visible damage.
She couldn’t tell whether the second newest Skull Beach recruit was trying to get closer to her or not, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The attacks were too frequent and far too strong, so much so that she could barely fight against the dust devils trying to knock her mecha out of the sky.
“E..van.ge…your…leg..!”
She must have not heard because a tendril thinner than the others wrapped itself around her ankle, suddenly dragging her down to the earth by force.
“R-RELEASE ME!”
Using the entirety of her upper body, she threw the sword against the tendril to little effect, with a swarm of limbs looming above her in a frenzy. Chelsea was about to scream at the young girl before a golden ray of light she recognized as a spear shredded the limb and the tendrils above her.
“Retreat to the Redoubt!” commanded Rojin. In a moment of clarity amid the panic, the girl nodded, wasting no time in flying the direction opposite the Endbringer. “Check on the others and see of their condition! We still require reinfor—”
“EVANGELA, DODGE!”
Time slowed down as the girl turned towards Chelsea. Perhaps she registered the command, perhaps it was that she didn’t hear it. But the only thing to escape the girl’s lips was a whimpered “eh?” as a bright red tendril shot from the dust beneath her, piercing her Slayer and carrying her into the air at such speeds that it tore away the damaged plates of her armor.
“EVANGELA!”
Chelsea saw her silhouette from below the bright, dust filled sky. No sooner had the tendril stopped moving then a group of them swarmed her like rats to a corpse. The difference being that beneath the bright, brown haze, she saw them puncture through every possible angle of the young pilot’s Slayer, everything from her chest, to her legs, to her head. In a second’s notice, each and every limb tore away from the body, literally destroying the Slayer from the inside out.
In a second’s notice, they all disappeared back into the dust. Just like that. As if the girl and her voice never existed. She couldn’t even see a body fall from the remains of the once neon Slayer.
All she could feel were the tiny chips of metal falling listlessly— quietly— onto her visor.
The silence at the end of an aria.
“…g…gcH!!”
She grabbed the hilt of her blade, slicing off the portion of the tendril sticking through Chanteuse before igniting her thrusters to push herself out of its grip. The snake-like appendage followed her freefall to earth, but using her momentum she turned around, sheathing Chansonnier in preparation to strike.
Evangela…she couldn’t have been older than Chelsea’s own eldest. In that instant her heartbeat resonated throughout her body, this time carrying with it a migraine forcing her to grab her head in shock.
No. Now is not the time to recall the past. She couldn’t. She mustn’t.
……such was her duty.
“Chanteuse, the Songstress, Second Recital…!” she said, unsheathing the dark plum tinted blade. “Me—!”
Though the syllable had escaped her mouth, what stopped her chant was the line of light that saved her. Or rather, that would save her. Sure enough, the future seen in her eyes came to fruition a moment later as the bright slash of a sword cut through the tendril and her body turned weightless. Lifted and carried by an all too familiar figure.
“……you’re late.”
The Slayer carried her for some distance, far from the Endbringer, until it became nothing more than a silhouette in the distant dust illuminated by the dim, earth-consuming fires that now fizzled into embers. The two landed just beyond the outskirts of Desert Oasis, and by a miracle, Chelsea saw the trees and rivers of the Redoubt remaining intact despite the fighting.
“You did this…” the voice whispered, standing her upright; but Chanteuse couldn’t support its own weight. She fell, managing to save face by dropping onto her knee as the girl continued speaking. But not to her.
“You’re the one who did this. You, and those freaks coming from you…”
“Calm dow-a-aghn…!”
The girl paid her no mind.
“You’re the one that hurt Lia, the reason she’s in the medical bay fighting for her fucking life. And now I arrive to see you have the audacity to try and kill the one who helped train us…!”
“Hanna…” huffed Chelsea, trying to prevent her voice from panting and the pain from becoming audible, “don’t go alone…no. If you’re here, then…!”
She looked to the distance. An absolute and enormous Slayer cast a grand silhouette through the dust as it came into view— so great, in fact, that seven separate Slayers were pulling it along despite it already using its own thrusters. Noise then erupted from behind her, and Chelsea looked back to see an equally enormous Slayer pulled by a greater number of Slayers, all of them approaching from behind the Redoubt of Desert Oasis.
The arrival of Skull Beach…and the Spire Garden Redoubt.
Hanna stood up. Beneath scorch marks and charred sections of her armor Chelsea saw a hole that nearly bore through her mecha.
“Hanna…don’t tell me you came from your fight against Ifnielis?” she asked in disbelief.
Her former student didn’t respond. Instead she watched as Tezcacoatl used its massive, injured mirror to tie the gargantuan mecha carried by Skull Beach around the waist. The seven Slayers pulling it disengaged the wires they’d been using, and dust momentarily cleared as the Colossus Slayer she recognized as Heinrich openly let himself be pulled by the Endbringer, firing his thrusters at maximum as he charged forth with a massive shield of dull metal.
“Skull Beach Redoubt’s Colossus Slayer, Hadal, engaging!” clicked the radio in Chelsea’s ear.
“Spire Garden Redoubt’s Colossus Slayer, Aster, on its flank!” The clash of monstrosities caused the earth to splinter, forcing Chelsea to grip the earth as her damaged hydraulics couldn’t handle the rumbling earth. Yet Hanna stood, unfazed as the world cried in pain like a newborn to its mother.
“All Redoubts! This is Code Zero of Desert Oasis, Jericho,” she heard through the crackling of the radio. It seemed he was still alive after all. “That shockwave from the Colossi cleared up some visibility in the environment but proceed with caution! And be warned, do not use—”
“—any ability.” said a girl’s voice she didn’t recognize. “Code Zero, Spire Garden, Pendulum. The CZ from Skull Beach mentioned Tezcacoatl’s ability earlier; what was her name? Is she still alive?”
“Stand up Chelsea.” urged her former student in a tone she hadn’t heard in years. It was the same tone used after the incident two years ago, and though her back was turned and only fizzling embers illuminated the landscape; Chelsea could clearly see the expression painted on Hanna’s face.
One that so clearly mimicked the feelings of that once fourteen year old girl.
With great difficulty she propped herself up with her sword as the gears in her mecha groaned under the strain of her weight. With how diverted her focus was, it’s no wonder she hadn’t noticed their arrival until now. “Code Zero, Skull Beach Redoubt, Chelsea. Reporting,” she gasped, unable to stop herself from panting. “Tezcacoatl has lost one of its two mirrors absorbing the desert flames.”
The muffled words coming over the radio were lost on her as a faint purple Slayer landed next to her. “…Chelsea.” said the pilot, her mecha visibly mangled from the onslaught. “Peter and the others’ presence…they’ve retreated into Desert Oasis, but Evangela…”
“Brin.”
Interrupting her shaking voice, the veteran pilot didn’t appear surprised to be called by name. With a downtrodden gaze she looked to her senior; that bright yellow visor appearing everything but harmless. Her sight burned through Brin until she realized Hanna wasn’t looking at her. She was looking past her.
“Take care of Chelsea.”
With mouth agape she stood in shock; Brin had fully expected her to ask about how she survived the Endbringer encounter against the cannibal Achchautli two years ago, to ask her to fight and possibly repeat that miracle, as the Commander did…but she instead chose to order her to look after Chelsea. To stay out of danger. To stay out of her way.
She raised her mechanical arm, about to call out. But another did so in her stead—
“Your bloodlust is palpable.”
—a Slayer colored hues of gold and amber carrying a golden spear.
“…Rojin.”
“Chelsea.” she enunciated, acknowledging the pilot’s barely operable mecha. “You look as though you have returned from the initiation rituals of my home-world; you have my commendation. Magnificent as your attack may have been, you should return to Desert Oasis and repair your Slayer. Reinforcements have arrived, you have done your duty.” Her voice was barely audible over the thundering clashes of the two Colossal Slayers fighting Tezcacoatl, on top of the numerous others simply trying to get close.
And as she opened her mouth to respond, another interjected yet again.
“‘You sense my bloodlust do you, ‘Rojin’?”
She turned her attention from Chelsea, the tone of Rojin’s voice making clear the smile on her face. “We are not so different in that respect. And if you are anything like your captain we may yet survive ‘Hanna’.”
“I don’t care about that.” she growled to the girl enunciating her words. Instead, Hanna pointed to the three colossal figures now visible through the reduced dust. “We heard everything from your captain; the fires have nearly all disappeared meaning it’s almost ready to use the ability you used to start this fight.”
“That…no! No NO!”
“…Brin?”
“The lives of everyone here, no— this fight is a lost cause! We need to retreat while we can, now— NOW!”
“Brin, control yourself!”
“Let her run, Captain.”
Hanna’s disquieting words made the other three stop even their breathing, the only sound being the chaotic voices overlapping each other like waves through the radio.
“Lost cause? I have no plans of dying— not before I cut that bastard into chunks of muscle and feed him to the Swarmers for what he’s done!”
A quiet sob escaped the voice of the Slayer in purple, one that quickly descended into a wail. “Desertion is better than dying at the hands of an Endbringer!” she cried. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see it! You didn’t see—”
She stopped speaking. In silence she followed Hanna’s sword pointing to a humanoid object glinting just above the Endbringer; silver, visible even through the dust still covering the hazy sky.
“Sen…pai?”
“An Endbringer.” As clear as day, Senpai’s voice overrode every radio channel within every Slayer on the field of battle. “I see. Troublesome indeed. But apologies, I’ve forgotten your name.”
He unsheathed a blade of silver, no different than any other weapon. Yet somehow, it glinted in the dull light of the mute dawn.
The air shifted around Tezcacoatl. Like a moth to an ivory flame the eldritch beast shifted the entirety of its attention to the mecha whose color was like moonlight given physical form. The only exception— his eyes. Eyes that burned crimson like Chelsea’s yet far, far brighter.
The eyes of a Resonator with Prescience.
Limbs exploded into grime and blood as clusters of flesh fell like hail alongside the downpour of lilac blood. Senpai burst past Heinrich’s Colossus Slayer, cutting down the innumerable needle thin tendrils aiming for his pristine armor as he bolted towards its center eye covered in an uncanny fuzz without any deviation. Like a ray of light striking the earth.
Flesh bounced and bled as his mecha landed onto the organ, gripping the fuzz sprouting from the eye. He noted that its pupil was as large as his own mecha, and as black as the depths of the ocean.
“But don't be disheartened.” he hummed, flipping his sword upside down as he stared into the abyss. “I cannot recall my own either.”