"What did you just say?" Fafnir replies, perplexed at the thought of someone other than him might know his forgotten past. Though not that distant, it had a lot of meaning to him. That was one of the many reasons he took on the quest for Andour, after all.

"That is what I believe. I may be mistaken, but I have a strong feeling about this belief of mine," Gram concludes, looking at the spitting image of himself, except with gold strands of hair.

"How can you prove something such as that? It sounds too good to be true."

The question forces Gram to think back. His memories of that fateful moment when he lost his parents and brother.

"... It goes back to the murder of king Arthur, years ago. You must have heard of that, right?"

"I have, in books. I've never really thought much about it before, not until Lazarus had told me about it."

"I see... Well, let me tell you my side of the story if you'll allow me. We have time I believe. We can walk as I talk," Gram suggests, leading the way. This man knew a lot. He retained most of his memories prior to the event that changed the future of the whole world. He could not move himself to tell the tale, but now he found the resolve to do so.

Fafnir, confused still, follows along. This man whose memories have eroded, this man whose past is a mystery to himself. This man, who because of a lost memory, chose to act and try to find his past. But he found nothing, not even a sliver of hope remained for him, until now.

"That night, I woke up to the loud shouting of soldiers and the rumbling of metal on the stone pavement. Surprised and distressed, I ran to my father and mother's bed chamber, terrified. Finding out that they weren't there, I searched every room close by, but to no avail did I find them. The sound of loud soldiers finally died down after a while, and I understood that something was wrong. You could call it a "gut" feeling."

As Gram speaks, his face is downcast, almost as if he would tear up at any moment. From his perspective, telling the story of how your life went spiraling down isn't the best thing. Especially if it's about how you lost your family. He continues nevertheless.

"And so that night, I found my parents, finally. But... It wasn't what I had expected. Maybe I disregarded the blood streaming out from the room, making the final scene much more grueling and traumatic. But I saw them both struck down. And my brother knocked out, hanging by the assailant's broad shoulders. I felt a surge of energy well up from my body. I rushed the man, and I myself was knocked out in a instant, like an ant... I couldn't do anything to save them."

Their footsteps make the awkward silence somewhat bearable, but it did not dispel that feeling of dread and sadness that could be felt by both.

"But, I clearly remember what my brother looked like, I can't ever move myself to forget. He is the only family I have that might still be alive. I know it's ridiculous to base it off speculation, but you're the only lead I have. There can be no mistake about it."

"Calm down, Gram. Don't let your emotions take control of you. I want to believe that as well, but I can't say for sure. Even I have doubts. But now is not the time for this. We can talk after the threat passes."

"... You're right. I'm sorry. I lost my composure there for a moment. Let us finish this then, shall we?"

Fafnir returns a nod and leads the way as they once more approach the end of the corridor.

Everything's polished and clean. Meticulously designed bust statues of some unfamiliar faces are neatly lined up to pair with the carpet, leading to the end of the seemingly never ending corridor.

Soon, they come face to face with the very door that if opened, will signal the beginning of the fateful battle for the world.

"We're here. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Gram replies. His uncertain attitude slowly starts creeping up on him. The fact that he's mortal and would stand no chance against Godly beings is once again rising from the depths of his mind.

-Everyone, wait for us. We will protect you all. I've made that strong and firm in my mind. I am terrified, but guide me.

Gram, ready for what's to come, sees Fafnir reaching for the door, pushing it open. It makes a loud creaking sound, revealing a wide and spacious alternate plane of some sort.

It's detached from the corridor behind them. The scene does not match. A giant slab of stone floats in the middle of nothingness that seems to serve as their ritual grounds. In front of them is a stone bridge that leads all the way towards an altar at the far reaches. In the middle is a tall spire that burns blue with flames.

But the one's that catches their attentions the most are the shadows of two people standing idly by the spire, looking at them nonchalantly. One is of a bulky and tall stature while the other is slim but well built. Decorated with six dark wings behind him. His glorious dark hair would reach up until his hind calves, but not more than that. Wearing nothing but dark leggings, his bare top laid open.

The mysterious winged man combs his long hair back from the center, looking at both of them maliciously as if they have been expecting them all this time.

"Well well, if it isn't Fafnir. About time that you got here. I was getting worried and all, waiting for you to come. But finally, here you are. And you seem to have brought a guest with you."

Fafnir looks at the man with a sly but deep voice with contempt. He knows this voice all too well. He's been deceived by this voice after all, so forgetting isn't really easy.

Fafnir begins to walk slowly towards them, clenching his fists. He then looks at the tall and bulky being beside the winged man.

This one's air is different. It feels suffocating, and his gaze, it's slowly making their legs weak. "This must be the daemon lord," Fafnir thinks to himself. This aura something else compared to the others that he fought against with. You could even compare it with an itch. But this one's different. The power it's exerting just by its presence alone is terrifying enough.

"Are these the two threats to my great reign?"

With a strong low voice, the giant daemon clad in dark armor speaks out. The two weary bodies shook in a slight surprise, turning hostile as they assume their battle stance.

"Then come, draconian whelp. I shall see for myself, your worth. Is your resolve enough to bring down my intention of heaven's destruction, and eventually, mankind's? Or will you be crushed by my power, and that responsibility of yours?"

Draconian whelp? Gram asks himself. Is that a title of some sort? He knew what was at stake. He dreadfully knew that as the intense amount of pressure slowly bubbled up from inside him. It was, and had always been there. He just dismissed it somehow.

-This is no time to be confused, Gram. Ready yourself!

-! You're right. I can't let myself be distracted any longer.

Gram draws his sword after alerting gram to the obvious antagonists that stand before them.

His sword glows pure white, just like the heavens, but one that shines in the very bowels of hell. It catches the attention of the two adversaries for a split second, turning back as they lose interest.

-It seems that they look upon me with scorn. Help me, sword. For I will show them who is beneath whom.

-As you wish. Those bestowed with my power shall secure the peace. That is our purpose. That is our reason.

As the voice inside finishes speaking, The sword glows once more. Gram's body glows, his destroyed armor from the previous battle begins to take shape once again.

Now fully clad in pure white armor. Gram follows Fafnir- who is already a few meters away- hands clenched and ignited. That beautiful blue flame that a hero wields. It might be the final time it will burn. It was a fleeting moment, but one that could never be forgotten.

-I know what I have brought myself into. But I didn't intend to bring harm to anyone, only to keep them safe. My own ideals turned against me. It must be fate that I stand here in hell, my final resting place.

Fafnir does something that he had forgotten to do. To smile. It was slight, but somewhat forced. He had forgotten the joy of life after realizing that death was always close by, ready to take him or those around him. He was taught a harsh lesson in realizing that. It would never be normal again, and he knew that as well.

It was painful, it was lonely, but he endured nevertheless. Did he become strong or weak? Will he ever atone for this, for putting the whole world at risk just so he could finally fulfill his wish for power; one that will and can protect others?

Interrupted, Fafnir snaps to his senses. That loud and endearing voice howls him to submission.

But as the stubborn person that he is, he openly defies that, empowering himself instead.

With eyes glowing yellow, and his pupils taking form of that of viper's, sharp and discerning.

With his skin turning hard, with scales replacing parts of his skin; such as his arms and limbs. With unyielding fortitude and unrelenting power.

With flames of blue, dazzling and burning the unjust. An image that symbolizes him. The blue flame wielding champion of the Gods. With hair as gold as the fleece of legend, a truly pristine sight.

An immense power overflows from him, piquing the attention of his enemies.

"... Interesting. But do you think that'll be enough to stop me? I doubt that you might even graze me with that flame of yours"

"I don't think it can. I know it will."

Fafnir replies with a smug voice, his expression still blank.

"Unfortunately, I will not be to one whom you will fight first. I have no need to do so."

Uriel faces the one to his side and speaks, "Now, do as you have said and put an end to their delusions, Kokabiel."

"With pleasure..." a sly and cunning smile. The name makes his heart writhe in pain and anger.

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His wings flutter, dark feathers falling with each step. He begins to flap his wings, ascending to the air.

"Come Fafnir. I have awaited this time of vengeance. Show me your anger, show me that hate you have. Your power, your limitless potential. I remember it all too well. Once you are defeated, I will revel in your soul! And only then will I be sated!"

He rambles, drowning himself in his own ambitions.

Fafnir feels a weight on his shoulders, making him look to his right.

"Remember. We will finish this together. I shall share the weight with you. You might just be my brother, so i'll give it everything I've got. After all, I need to know the truth. We share this destiny now," Gram smiles brightly as he fills Fafnir with a strange feeling. That warm feeling that he felt when his loneliness disappeared for a moment, that one fleeting moment.

"Thank you."

And with that, they stand side by side, facing their first trial. The first step to saving the world. Defeat the fallen God, Kokabiel!

In one swift movement, Kokabiel dashes forth, his arms lagging behind him.

With speed like a lance being thrust forth by the very winds. The unseen wind, dashing to and fro. Disappearing with a snap of a finger.

Fafnir- too late to realize this- backs away, barely blocking a powerful blow with his two arms.

The strength of the blow was enough to blast Gram aside. But yet, Fafnir stood, firmly planted on the ground as he caught the brunt of the blow.

Connecting with this, Kokabiel unleashes a devastating array of attacks, forcing the firmly planted fighter back by sheer force.

"Is that all you can do? Defend? I know you better than that!"

Words of intimidation, with the intent to enrage a foe, or induce confusion, removing focus for the right time to strike. But, he knew that all too well.

He returns, covering his front with his arms, striking onto Kokabiel's stomach with a sharp jet of his knee.

Oddly enough, the winged being does not reel back, rather it seems that it did not affect him in any way.

"This truly is disappointing."

In a sleight of misdirection,

Kokabiel clutches Fafnir's head with his hand, rendering him immobile as he is raised from the ground.

A dark mist takes form on Kokabiel's hand, emerging from Fafnir and trailing to him.

"Ah! This power, it truly is a marvel to behold."

With a grimace, the fallen God speaks. He looks at his prey, unable to land an attack as he tightly grips his captor's arm, trying to burn it with his flame. All but futile in the face of an enemy that sees you lesser than dirt.

"Shine brightest in the dark where no light can pierce! Awaken, blade of light- Grace of dawn!"

With an incantation and voice that filled the gap in the void, Gram launches forth in a dazzling blaze of light.

Fatally striking Kokabiel, who was unable to react fast enough, Gram sends forth a series of crescent blades towards the fleeing God, who retreats to the air.

"Are you alright Fafnir?"

Gram secures Fafnir, standing in front of him as he speaks with his sword drawn.

"I was caught off guard. Nothing too serious. But it feels like he's underestimating us."

"As I thought. That playful nature of his is leaking out. I don't like admitting it, but this is my peak form. I don't think I can surpass it asI am now."

"We can stand a chance if we work together. Cycle with me. We'll swap after five seconds each, no more, no less."

"I can make do with that."

Gram, nodding in acceptance, followed Fafnir as he runs ahead a few meters, chasing the fleeing God.

He forms a ball of fire from his two hands, launching bolts of blue flames in quick succession.

Easily dodging them all, Kokabiel holds his hand out, "Taste the power of a God! Heaven's rapture!"

With a call to the very heavens themselves, a loud crackling roar escapes the twisted purple sky. Dark clouds begin to form, unleashing bolts of lighting, striking the ground from where Fafnir and Gram stood.

"Gram!"

With a call to his voice, he understands what he has to do. Gram traces the blade with his hand, shadowing it until he traces until the tip of the sword, "Lash out at the infidels! Crescent candesence!" he ripples forth, cutting at the air, releasing yet more crescent blades of light towards the clouds, challenging lightning with light.

With the bolts of lightning that obscured Fafnir's path now gone, he continues dashing forward, leaping into the air as the ground beneath him cracks.

Fafnir, launching himself towards Kokabiel with his fists wound up, nears the idle God, smiling defiantly.

He strikes, his attack strongly pulsates with the air as Kokabiel catches his fist with his hand.

"Futile. There simply is no future left for you."

"If you've thought that far ahead, then you've lost this round already. Gram, now!"

Already on the move, Gram follows suit, leaping from behind Kokabiel, slicing and dicing, cutting at the God's wings, forcing him to let loose a loud cry of agitation and pain.

Incidentally, he loses grip of Fafnir's fist, giving the man in question his chance.

He takes his enemy's arm, aggressively pulling him closer for another strike.

It connects! making the very plain of existence quake in terror.

Fafnir lets go, performing a powerful kick to Kokabiel's jaw as he flips backwards, landing back, smashing the ground with landing.

The God falls down to the ground with a loud thud.

He dusts off the dirt and debris from his body, rising up with a renewed expression. an empty, but terrifying one.

"... No more playing around, huh? So you really want to see the extent of who I am and what I can do? So be it!"

Kokabiel materializes from his hand, gauntlets made of strong and foreign looking materials. It takes an obsidian color, covering its user's two arms completely.

"This is phase one. I haven't really used it for a long millennium, so I apologize if it gets out of hand."

The sudden transformation puts Fafnir and Gram in a wary state, letting them on edge as they try and anticipate their enemy's next move.

He disappears in an instant, the ground from where he stood is now empty.

Fafnir is suddenly launched forward, smashing onto the altar mercilessly.

Gram turns around to see the very foe he was wary of, behind him now.

"Fallen's vengeance!" Kokabiel roars out as he points his opened hand to Gram. A purple beam appears in a straight line, hitting Gram, who blocks the attack with his sword.

Kokabiel does not falter. He chases the freefalling Gram, disappearing once more only to reappear behind his enemy.

But this time, Gram anticipated that. He countered skillfully, blocking a devastating blow with his blade. They begin exchanging attacks slowly, each successive skirmish hastens the clash until both attacks come off as a blur to the eyes of a normal person.

Fafnir rises to his feet, shifting his attention to his ally, whom is fighting in his stead. Fafnir clenches his fists, igniting them intensely.

"Gram, send him down!" Fafnir yells on the top of his lungs, catching Gram's attention quite easily.

In that instant, he knows what to do. Gram does not slow down with his attacks, rather, he attempts to surpass the inhuman speed that his enemy possesses. Thinking that it might be the only way to beat him in this round.

-Don't push yourself too much, Gram. You're using up too much of my power. There will be none left for you to fight with if you overexert it.

-I can't slow down. I can't let him defeat me here. If I slow down ever for a split second, he'll beat me for sure.

-Hmph. stubborn as my last wielder, maybe much more, although. Very well. If you are prepared for the consequences coming thus far, I doubt you'll mind this. Repeat after me then.

In his mind, Gram repeats the words that his companion residing in the sword says. 

-With a steadfast mind, an unyielding will, a determined soul, I will bend fate to its knees. Send forth your boon, Emissary of light!

As the conversation within his mind finishes. Gram begins to glow with a shade of blue. His sword changes form to that of a slim but sturdy longsword. A trace of blue light can be seen with each swipe of the sword. His both eyes gleam blue, instilling power to the vessel of light incarnate.

"Take this!" 

With an explosion of power given to Gram, he cleaves downward with all his might, sending his enemy to the ground like a meteorite under the night sky, crashing the same way. 

Fafnir, who was already on the move, had leaped in the air and is already on his way to send one last blow to truly weaken the God. 

*Crash* With a puff of dust and smoke, the ground implodes after having landed a power blow on the unwary enemy, the ground shakes, leveling the field. 

"... You are making a grave mistake if you expect yourself to defeat me. This truly has been amusing, but now, I shall transcend those that oppose me. I will show you what a true God is!"

After having received the attack from Fafnir, Kokabiel had gotten up without much delay, dusting the dirt and dust off of him. His enemies back away instantly, preparing for the next attack.

His wings are a mess, and so is his expression. The smile that he had while fighting had now disappeared, replaced with a wry grimace. 

His aura changes, turning darker as it envelopes him. Dark feathers begin raining down gently on his position as Fafnir and Gram spectates, unable to move their bodies for some reason. The air around them vibrates, making both opponents nauseous.

"What's this? Why can't I move?" Fafnir asks himself, forcing every part of his body to at least budge. But to a revelation, he is surprised to see his very legs trembling, his arms beginning to get heavy from the pressure that Kokabiel is exerting.

He shifts his attention to Gram, ignoring the enemy in front of him. His ally, as he expected, could not move himself, staying suspended in the air, levitating.

"I did not want to show anyone this, including my good acquaintance, Uriel. But it seems that it has become warranted. You have proven yourselves to be more persistent than ants. Revel in this miracle that only one can dream of, for no one in the world could ever hope to challenge and expect victory... I have once more descended from the heavens... My name, is Kokabiel! Ring the bells of heaven, blow the trumpets of excellence!"

The long dark haired god now emerges anew, afloat in the air as his wings flap away, sending feathers flying in every direction. 

Even with the long incantation, they are unable to remove their eyes from him, nor could they block out his voice. 

This, this is all too appalling. The voice of god himself, but more like, a fallen God. A voice from the heavens itself. Just a slight whisper could make a fervent believer pass away from tears of disbelief.

"Is... This it?" he questions himself, losing heart all at once as if induced by a trance. He entered the battle with full of vigor and belief that he could end the threat to humanity that he ushered into the world himself. But now faced with an unparalled enemy, a God even. Who can hope to stand a chance?

"Unfortunately, I am not finished. There is much more to see."

Kokabiel snaps his fingers. With a blink of an eye, their scenery changes. The skies turn a deep purple shade. The ground is eroded and cracked. There is nothing but a formless landscape for miles. An abandoned land, different from the one they knew before. 

"Where are we?"

"You are in my domain. Welcome to Astria! A world that I created especially for you!"

"What? Another world?" the troubled Fafnir looks around, realizing that everything is not what it was like before. 

"Snap out of it, Fafnir!" a voice... a voice that desperately cries out for his delusional release. 

Yet, he cannot snap out himself...

A trance? a dream? Whatever it was, he hoped that it was true that it was a dream. 

Why did he think this in an inopportune time? What drove him to a sudden change of heart? This can't be of his own volition, can't it?

Wake up, child. Now is not the time for dreaming. Will you let a mere God take your beloved world from you? The world where the people you care about reside?

This is merely a limitation for a mortal, but you are not a mortal are you? You know that well. You discovered that you were no normal soul in this world. So what is restraining you? Are you not as omnipotent as you believe you are?

-Who are you? What are you talking about?

... Who am I does not matter right now. Nothing else will matter if they succeed. Will you allow that?

-No, I won't. But, what can I do? I can't even control my own body anymore. It has succumbed to fear, and soon, my soul will as well.

Will you allow that then? That is my question.

-I, I, what can I do? Tell me. Do you know the reason?

Fear. You know the answer, but you do not want to acknowledge it. You fear death even though your words contradict that.

-Me!? Fear death? I've already made a resolution to see this through.

Then why can't you move your body? That is the only reason, nothing else. 

-If that is indeed true, then could I truly do it? Do you believe that I can accomplish this?

You have said it yourself. All you need is that belief that you have given yourself, and you will surpass all expectations. 

As Fafnir converses with the voices in his mind, Gram lands in front of Fafnir, shielding as he draws his sword. "What is wrong with you, Fafnir? It's too dangerous to stay idle for too long--"

Gram is cut off as he speaks, sent flying high upward by an unseen force. He feels the pain only after seconds of taking the damage. 

As the God looks at the absentminded man in front of him, he eases his hand towards Fafnir's face, his eyes filled with deadly contempt. 

"How does it feel to be terrified? This too is my doing. With one touch, I will take your soul, trapping it for eternity. Say goodbye to those delusions of peace and tranquility in your mind..."

-AWAKEN!

Vigorously shaking his head, he snaps to his senses, focusing his anger on his fists, burning with passion. On instincts alone, he devastates his enemy with a poweful uppercut, hitting sqaure on Kokabiel's jaw, sending his face up.

Fanir retreats away from his enemy, taking a stance, displaying the beauty and power that his blue flame possessed once again, reignited. 

Inhale, exhale. "I have promised not only to myself, but to the entire world itself." 

A new gleam in his eyes awaken, shining a bright gold color. A glare that could kill. One that contains all the intent in the world to move against God. The audacity, the arrogance, the bravery... Here is a hero.

Except, his enemy does not see that in him. 

He lowers his face, unfazed by the powerful blow landed on him. In hindsight, Kokabiel did not even flinch from the attack, rather, he recieved the attack on purpose, knowing that it would come. The force that should have sent him flying was negated instead. But, how?

"You truly know how to make things interesting, my friend."

"Give up already."

"You'll have to force me."

"Then we shall see to that."