I know where I am! It's that Genshin Impact thingy, right? Chapter: 10

***


As the nuclear explosions bloomed in the distance, like a fiery flower, and the eyes of the Herrscher stopped on me, I... couldn't put into words what I thought. What I felt.

When things went to shit in Japan, and I've been pursued across the street by a Kaiju who was attacking me geometrically, I've been terrified, desperate, but focused. Maybe I didn't know what I could do to win, at least not at first, but I knew how not to die. I had a certainty of a shield that could protect me, and a blade that could cut anything. The rest of the fight was just a puzzle: how to end up with a shield between me and every attack of the high-level beast, and my sword sticking in it.

This wasn't like Japan. This wasn't like anything else in either of my lives.

The last time I've been this scared was maybe when M.O.T.H. just caught me. But even back then, it wasn't so bad. After all, I was caught by humans, for very human and understandable reasons. Deep down, even if I was helpless, there was a hope that something could be reasoned out. Even if not in a physical sense, I had something that could shield me, like my own value as an oddity, ethics, laws, whatever.

None of that applied here either.

I stood there, hearing the primitive, automatic system tell me about a thirty-second timer, and I knew this was it.

Even if they used more strategic nukes, I won't be able to distract a Herrscher long enough. Not with my power armour having 30 seconds of operational time, not when the Herrscher is slowly adapting to my tactics and agility throughout the fight, getting better and better at nailing me down. Even if I survive until the rockets hit, I would have to shed the adamantium armour by then, and in this case, I will be going out in the nuclear explosion.

The pit in my stomach wasn't due to a fear of death.

It was there because of the certainty of it.

Never before was I confronted with a situation where I was so utterly helpless.

What should I do? Run? It will pursue. Fight? I will die. Drop the power armour? I will die. Keep the power armour? I will die once it locks up.

There was no good choice to make here. No golden bullet. No way out of this situation, and no sequence of actions in sight that could've guaranteed anything remotely resembling success, or even a chance of survival, it would take a moment of thought to acknowledge that much.

I suppose I am lucky that I wasn't given time to think.

My danger sense wailed, and around me, over a dozen distortions of space appeared. Familiar ones.

Before the attacks could even happen, I could almost see the odd spears. Their shape, how they will extend, exactly where they were intended to strike.

I exploded into movement guided by desperation, terror, and a burning yearning to live.

The distortions hung in the air for a fraction of a second. My danger sense mapped them all at once, a three-dimensional web of death converging on my position. Too many angles. Too many vectors. The obvious escape route, jumping straight up like I'd done before, was already cut off. Three distortions hover right where my trajectory would take me. I didn't have time to think it over; I just saw myself die if I tried it.

She learned. Of course she fucking learned.

My body was already moving before conscious thought caught up. Precognition is weird like that. You don't decide to dodge, you just find yourself dodging because some part of your brain already saw what happens if you don't.

I dropped forward and down, tons of armor slamming toward the ground in something that wasn't quite a slide, wasn't quite a dive, just a desperate yet fluid movement. Cap's shield was already angled up and left because that's where death would come from if I didn't put it right there.

The spears erupted all at once.

The world became a cacophony of action. My right shoulder plate, the part extending past where my actual shoulder ended in this oversized tin can, disintegrated as twisted space carved through proto-adamantium and vibranium alloy. The metal didn't just break; it reverted to what it truly was, the magic failing as the structure was compromised. What had been priceless one-of-a-kind armor became chunks of worthless plastic exploding from impact. Another spear shrieked past my helmet so close I felt my hair stand on end through two layers of armor. The shield in my hand rang like a bell as multiple impacts hit simultaneously, the wonder-alloy screaming a note that shouldn't exist.

I was already twisting before I knew why, my spine arcing in ways the armor was never meant to bend. Three tons of metal doesn't like to twist. Servos whirled so loudly they almost felt louder than my own heartbeat drumming in my temples, the armor's waist joint grinding not unlika a Chinese escalator on live-leak. The motion was ugly, too slow, but the alternative was worse. A spear meant for my chest carved a molten canyon across the armor's ribs instead. More proto-adamantium reverting to plastic, pieces of what looked like a child's toy armor raining down.

My slide carried me under the main cluster, but my danger sense was still screaming. I slammed my free hand down, all that mass and momentum suddenly pivoting on one point. The ground cratered under the impact. I tried to spin, but that coffin of mine doesn't spin easily; it lurches. The motion was ugly, the armor tilting dangerously as I fought the momentum. One spear threaded between the armor's legs, taking the right foot clean off at the ankle. Not my foot, thank fuck, just the empty armor below where my actual leg ended. Another passed through the gap between arm and torso, carving away external plating that immediately became more plastic debris.

Pain exploded through the side of my head.

One moment, I was jerking left on pure reflex, fighting the armor's inertia, the next my ear was full of blood and static. The spear had carved through everything, MK.0's helmet, shadow armor, missing my skull by maybe two inches. Maybe less. Close enough that I felt the spatial distortion trying to pull my brain out through my ear. The helmet's edge, carved clean through, was already reverting. Metal to plastic, right next to my head.

Still not dead. Still not dead. How am I still not dead?

More death incoming. No time to process. I tried to fold in on myself, knees to chest, but the armor fought me. Too much mass, too much bulk. The roll backward turned into more of a tumbling crash, graceless and desperate. The shield was just there when it needed to be, deflecting one spear while two others crossed through space I'd just vacated. My back arched beyond what should be possible, vertebrae popping, armor servos giving up entirely as another spear tried to thread my spine.

The MK.0's left leg below the knee just stopped existing. No explosion, no drama, just there one second and gone the next. The armor's extremity, a good meter past where my actual leg ended, turned into plastic dust. Three tons of armor suddenly unbalanced, tilting toward a face-plant that would definitely kill me.

I threw myself sideways into something between a cartwheel and a controlled fall. Ever see an elephant try to cartwheel? Like that, but worse. The armor's hand hit the ground and immediately buckled, the weakened plastic unable to support the weight. I had to abort mid-motion, turning it into a desperate scramble that somehow, somehow kept me upright. Another spear clipped the armor's hip mid-scramble, sending chunks of plastic that used to be priceless metal scattering across melted glass.

I hit the ground on one knee, or rather the armor's knee; mine was somewhere in what was left of the thigh section. The ruined armor was sparking and grinding, barely responding to any input. Half the weight was gone, but the balance was completely fucked. The whole exchange had taken maybe two seconds. Maybe less. Time gets weird when you're threading the needle between however many different ways to die.

The MK.0 looked like a gummy bear mid-way through the 'game' with a toddler. More hole than armor, entire sections just gone, servos hanging out like guts, and everywhere the telltale sign of my conjured materials' failure, edges of impact craters that were plastic instead of metal. Through the gaps, my shadow armor was visible, torn and scored where death had come too close. Blood ran down my neck.

The Herrscher hadn't moved. Still floating there, golden eyes studying me. I knew that even now, she learned.

The armor's about to lock up. I can feel it. Responses are getting mushier, servos are failing one by one. And half of it's fucking plastic now.

"Still breathing, pedo bait," I rasped, tasting copper, and lifting a single finger up. "Your aim needs work. Three-meter target, and you keep missing the essential parts? Honestly, horrendous skill issues."

The Herrscher tilted her head slightly. I realized that she shouldn't have heard me, probably. I wasn't sure how the now-plastic and fragmented helmet of my power armour was carrying the sound, if it even did. We were also still separated by a solid hundred or so meters.

Then she raised both hands, and my questions were answered.

Me and my big mouth.

The momentary breather I did have, I used. My shadow exploded through the gaps in my armour as I spent mana, coiling around Cap's shield, and my sword that was still attached to the power armour's hip, somehow.

Then I did the hand motion for catapulting.

It was a beautiful moment when the back of the Power Armour blew open, practically ejecting me out, covered in gel.

There was a sex joke here, somewhere.

The catapulting mechanism was at least partially fucked, I could tell, because I had to backflip to catch both the shield and a sword, and angle myself for landing...

Once again, I could almost see myself dying in multiple horrifying ways.

A chasm opened behind me, except it didn't. Not yet. I already called out to my mana, twisting a familiar shadow spell to the limits, practically shooting out a bunch of chains into the ground, and changing my straight flight into and arc, angling myself like a certain web-enthusiast.

Danger again, but this time, it was worse.

The attacks just that much sharper, that much tighter, that much more impossible to dodge.

I dispelled the shadow-chains, changing my trajectory sharply again, but this wasn't enough. I twisted mid-flight, but knew this wouldn't be sufficient either. Multiple attacks, from multiple angles, I brought up the shield, and even swung the sword, desperate to deflect the incoming strike just a bit.

It wasn't enough.

I barely saw the spears themselves; for a long time, I had already been operating on sensations, on instinct and intuition, trusting them more than my flesh and blood body. Because, frankly, my body wasn't keeping up, even augmented by the shadow armour.

I didn't see the spears, but I felt them. They struck simultaneously again, a few were deflected by the correctly positioned shield, some missed, as from the beginning they were meant to cover the trajectories of the dodges I choose not to utilize, and a few struck.

I screamed, I think.

My right shoulder and left leg ignited in blinding white agony. I might have blacked out for a moment, as I felt the impact of the ground, tearing the air away from my chest, and nauseating tumbling as I was dragged across the ground by the momentum.

"Haaa..."

I found myself on the ground, wheezing for some reason, feeling that my shoulder is absolutely on fire, and so is my leg. Everything hurt.

I twisted myself, trying to get up, but I immediately fell. My vision was swimming. My insides - boiling.

I glanced to the right and saw a gaping hole where my shoulder was supposed to be. How was my arm still attached?

Glanced down and saw my left leg, with the shadow-armour still on, twisted in an unnatural angle.

My vision swam. This didn't feel real.

Then the pain got worse.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!"

I think I would've rolled in place if my body only listened, screaming as tears streamed down my face.

Yet, I saw it, I saw her. Hovering there. Observing me.

There wasn't a need to even focus on anything; I knew I was dead. This was it.

I didn't want to die. I wanted to scream, and plead, and beg, but I also knew that wouldn't work.

HQ, why didn't HQ say anything?! Where is the army, the support, anyone?!

On reflex, I reached for my ear, where the earpiece was plugged... except the helmet was broken there. The ear - missing.

There was a moment of utter bewilderment as I touched the wound, and whimpered at the agony, and just couldn't believe it, searching for the ear. Because it must be there. Because I couldn't even conceive being crippled.

That was a moment when the realization truly hit.

No one was coming. No rockets from the sky. No cavalry to save the day. Even the strings, towards which I reached out in my desperation, had nothing. Just a distant whirling chaos beyond my reach, no new connections.

Only me, in my broken armour, lying in a puddle of my own blood.

Only me...

There was my mana. In the sea of agony that was my body, it alone was there, pulsing, shining in me. But not a true escape, just a part of me that didn't hurt, that wasn't tired, that was brimming with vitality.

I looked at the Herrscher, and the terror in me ignited into something dark and ugly.

Into rage, agression that, tempered by my pathetic state, turned to hate in an instant.

I will die here. I didn't need a Jedi foresight to know this, but for once, I realized. More than being afraid, more than even wanting to live, I wanted her to die. I wanted her to scream. I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to die with me.

Hate, I hated her so much, hated her more than anything else in my life.

Hate hate hatehateh̶̤̑a̴̗͐t̵̜͆ë̶̲́h̷̰̓ä̵͕́t̵̪̄e̴̜͂

There was no thought anymore, only impulse. Usually, when working on mana, I gently pulled on it; in my head, I visualized it much like a stream I had to direct into shape.

This wasn't what I did this time. Like a man dying of thirst, I plunged into it and pulled on the entire thing, with almost maniacal glee, pouring it into my armour and weaving and twisting the spell itself, taking it further than I ever did.

Something in me cracked, or maybe snapped into place.

The shadows around me exploded.

With an indescribable wordless roar, shadows knit into place, flooding my bloody form, pouring in around and into my body, twisting, writhing, screeching, as if alive and every bit as hateful as I.

The beast of living shadow rose where a man lay, roaring into the sky, not in defiance or hurt, but with sheer, indescribable malice.

When I moved, I didn't move my limbs. Yet, I did. The limbs of shadows, the countless tendrils.

I rushed across the ground towards the one whom I wanted gone. It wasn't a sprint and wasn't a run, it was the movement of a beast, a lunge.

Danger all around, as the space twisted and tore, but this didn't slow me down for an instant. My body was in perfect synch, my magic mirroring what I needed as my blood and mana burned.

Tendrils of shadow exploded from me, digging into the ground ahead of me, pulling me out of the way from the space-destroying spears, zones where the space was twisted, everything.

My limbs, arms, and legs barely touched the ground as I was swinging myself, roaring, and the shadows echoed.

The Herrscher adapted to my movements in the power armour and managed to utilize this to even catch my much more agile shape when I wasn't burdened by it anymore, catching me quite literally before I could get my footing.

But the alien intelligence behind those empty eyes wasn't prepared. Not for a twisted monstrosity of shadow and hate that swung itself freely to wherever it could reach - and my tendrils reached far indeed.

A few tendrils shot towards the figure of the girl, making her dodge down and sever space with her hand, the offending tendrils with it.

But the distance dwindled, even as I approached. More attacks that tried to predict where I would be, missing completely as my whole body, my whole being, was a single machine that was completely focused on one, simple, yet deeply alluring purpose.

To tear apart that untouchable figure.

I was faster than I've ever been, my reactions sharper, I could feel the strength in both my actual body and my shadows that I never had before, even as thoughts failed to form in my head, replaced by a sensation of hate-fueled omnipotence.

And then I was upon her.

Her body looked, felt so small. When I was upon her, I could practically see it, me running her over with my mass, my shadows tearing into her and blending her into a mince meat.

Even the sense of danger that spiked on approach went ignored, how could it not be? I wanted her to die, I could see her die screaming, I could taste it.

My fist, bloated and giant and covered in spikes, drew back, even as my right arm that was attached to the shadow limb cried in pain, and I swung the instant she was at range.

The Herrscher raised her small hand. My fist never reached her. My body never reached her, suspended in the air. I still felt as if I was flying through it. The distance just never grew shorter. A meter that separated us - stayed unbreached.

A moment of sheer confusion.

Then, right in the air, she took a step.

The shadow tendrils exploded out of me, but impacted a blender of the distorted space.

Through that space, a blur moved, and only when it grabbed me by the neck, through the shadow exterior, punching through it as if it wasn't there, I realized that it was her hand.

I could feel it squeezing my neck with tremendous force.

"Agh!" A wet, shocked sound was all I could muster.

But the shock lingered for the briefest of moments, hate overpowered it in an instant as I tried to swing my other arm... only to see it impaled by the spear mid-way, feeling the weave of mana within fall apart, as did the shadows.

I looked down on the child who held me by the neck, her eyes just as empty and uncaring, her hair blowing slightly. There was no blood on her, no sweat, not even a hint of dust.

I was like a butterfly, caught by a curious child.

"Anomaly." Words, I didn't even register that something was said initially, even as the canvas of red before my eyes tore from sheer shock, "Eliminated."

There was a blur of motion and a flair of pain. I didn't immediately realize what it was, even as I could feel something in my chest.

My eyes trailed down belatedly, and I saw a second, small hand stuck in... my chest.

The flair of pain was blinding, but not as blinding as the rest of it. My vision was swimming; I could hardly see anything anymore.

No, no, that isn't quite right. It was like that for a while.

I realized, suddenly, that I couldn't see clearly, and couldn't since the first strikes. I didn't know how I was so sure and purposeful when I moved. I saw, even as my eyes didn't, but I didn't truly see, I just knew how things were.

"Aghhhhha..." I don't know what I was trying to say, maybe to curse, maybe to complain how bullshit all of this is, maybe just screaming in pain, as all of it finally caught up to me.

I saw the droplets of blood land on the Herrscher, I think.

Ah, of course, my shadows disappeared. I didn't even notice how the spell slipped out of control and unraveled for the most part, leaving only the bodysuit underneath.

I was looking down at my chest, and there were lines there, beneath the torn under-suit. Just like Naru back then.

I see.

This is how I die. I hated it, I told myself. It looked ugly on me. Even if I didn't feel any hate at all anymore.

Just helplessness, as the searing agony grew duller, and the world further and further away...

My heart wasn't beating right anymore; I barely heard it in my temples. But it grew louder. I thought it grew louder.

But why did it sound like a car horn?

There were a few flashed of pink for a while, I realized. Than I felt like I was fling, or floating, before I suddenly wasn't. A flash of pink and white, and an impact.

I may have temporarily lost it, because once I blinked away most of the black spots, I saw a face, and a lot of pink right above me.

It looked so pretty.

"...am...late...you... amazing..."

I think it said something. Something wet touched my forehead. The world grew more distant, and I felt cold. It scared me, because even if my whole body was burning in pain, it growing cold like that meant one thing.

Even if my thoughts weren't coherent enough about what that thing was, I knew it in my bones.

"...fault... ...ast... words?"

Dread and cold, why was it so cold that my body was shaking, and why was I so scared?

I didn't know, but I didn't want it all to grow even more distant.

I wanted to reach out, so someone would help, but my hands didn't respond.

I still reached out, past my body, past my thoughts, past the mana, past the universe around me, as if looking into the starry sky. With the only thing I had left, my will alone.

Something in there was pink too.

The only thing that felt real.

I grasped onto it.

I pulled.

And as the understanding of what was filling me, of what part of the void I grasped and thrust in my broken self, I laughed.

***
The Pink Blur,

...exiting the laboratory, a figure clad in a modified hazmat suit snickered to herself, righting her uniform, and glancing towards the hangars.

It didn't take her long to head there, joining one of the groups that was off to be shipped to Eastern Europe.

"You assigned to us?" A woman asked, looking at her nametag, when she joined them on the plane.

"Quite right!~" She answered back, both excitedly and warmly, as she gently tagged on her mask, removing it just to give the woman a wink, "I am a bit of a last-minute addition, you could say!"

"Well, not my problem," The woman said, maybe blushing just a bit as she turned away.

The now revealed pink-haired girl only giggled to herself, putting the mask back in place, and glancing out of the window.

For just a moment, her eyes narrowed, as if she spotted something in the distance.


***


One of the Belarus military bases was hastily converted into a facility that can house the rapid deployment of M.O.T.H. assets.

Just far enough from the Herrscher to not be at any immediate risk, but close enough for people here to be assigned into roles and hastily rotated to wherever they were needed.

Needless to say, a sizable amount of M.O.T.H. personnel were also relocated to other such spots in Belarus, some in Ukraine, some in Russia, some in Lithuania, Latvia, and some in Poland.

The fact that a certain pink-haired lady was rotated to Belarus could be called luck, perhaps. Or maybe it wasn't quite sad.

She stood in the small command tent, just to the side of the field officers who were receiving orders and assigning groups. A few people with particularly complicated shapes on their shoulder pads seemed to be half-narrating, half-explaining what they were reading on the data pads.

"...we received the direction to prepare around Minsk. So far it's the Belarusians on the ground, but the Knightmare is about to be dropped...."

Hearing that, the woman in a protective suit stopped leaning against the wall of the tent and, without disturbing anybody, left.

On her way out, she removed the facemask again, sighing in relief and blowing a persistent strand of pink hair from her mouth, huffing a bit, as she headed towards the vehicle park.

She threw the mask on one of the tables with assault rifles arranged across, never quite slowing her stride.

Once there, she elegantly side-stepped to the side, letting a squad pass by and get into an armoured assault vehicle.

Her eyes lingered for a moment before she glanced around and spotted a hover-truck. Clearly there to deliver supplies, but never actually intended to fly into the contaminated zone; its delicate electronics would never hold for long, despite the extensive modifications made specifically so it could last longer.

Smiling to herself, she headed directly to it, getting inside, and throwing what looked to be a guitar case on the second front seat.

She was ignored by a variety of personnel, some spared her a glance or two, but returned to their own duties.

For a moment, the young-looking and absolutely stunning girl with pink hair glanced around before opening the sun visor and having the keys fall into her lap.

"Just like in the movies!~" She giggled to herself. With a gleeful grin, she stuck out her tongue, jammed the key into the ignition, and the hover-truck came to life around her, lifting gently from the ground. "I hope games didn't lie about flying those!"

With that, wobbling and leaning from side to side, the machine rose vertically, before accelerating forward.


***


The hover-truck crested the final hill before Minsk at four hundred kilometers per hour, its repulsor field screaming in protest. Through the windshield, the pink-haired woman got her first clear view of the devastation.

The city center was gone. Multiple overlapping craters of molten glass reflected the afternoon sun, and in the middle of it all, two figures. One floating serenely, untouched, just above the glass-like ground. The other was a writhing mass of shadows and hate, snarling and moving jerkily with quite impressive speed.

"Oh my," she murmured, leaning forward. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

The dashboard started sparking. Warning lights flickered on, then died. The navigation screen cracked, displaying corrupted pixels before going dark. Honkai radiation was murder on electronics. The repulsor field stuttered, and the truck lurched downward before catching itself.

She didn't have long before complete system failure. The fact that it even lasted as long as it did was a small miracle indeed!~

The pink-haired woman reached for the guitar case, flipping it open with practiced ease. Inside wasn't a guitar but a bow, crystalline and elegant, seeming to glow with its own inner pink-ish light. She grabbed it and kicked open the driver's door with such force it flew away, wind immediately whipping her hair into a frenzy.

Below, the shadow-beast that had been Knightmare was upon the Herrscher.

Then space twisted. The Herrscher raised one small hand, and the charging figure simply... stopped. Suspended. A meter away but unable to close the distance.

"Spatial manipulation," she whispered, a hint of desperate concern showing on her face, as she was already drawing the bow. No physical arrow appeared, but energy coalesced between her fingers, pink and brilliant. "Must have been rough."

The Herrscher took a step through the twisted space. Shadow tendrils exploded from the suspended figure only to meet a wall of distorted reality that shredded them like paper. A small hand punched through the shadow armor, grabbing the person within by the throat.

The hover-truck's engine coughed. Died. Restarted with a grinding whine.

She leaned out the window, upper body completely outside the vehicle, one foot hooked under the steering wheel for leverage. The first arrow materialized fully as she drew, crackling with enough energy to light up the cabin pink. Sher fired as quickly as she was able, biting her lip softly.

Both figures were there, frozen.

She released.

The arrow crossed three hundred meters in an instant, intercepting a spatial spear that was directed at her. Both projectiles detonated in a burst of light that painted the ruins pink and dark violet. The Herrscher's head snapped up, golden eyes focusing on the approaching vehicle.

"Hello there!" she called cheerfully, already drawing again, not caring in the least that she shouldn't be heard.

Multiple spatial distortions appeared in the air between them. She fired three times in rapid succession, each arrow splitting mid-flight into dozens of smaller projectiles. Pink rain met invisible spears, detonations creating a firework display across the battlefield.

The truck's repulsors failed completely. It dropped five meters before she managed to coax it back online with a solid kick to the dashboard.

Time practically slowed to a crawl, as the certain pink lady's eyes narrowed.

The Herrscher's attention was fully on her now. Good. That small hand released Knightmare's throat, letting the bloodied figure drop. Both hands rose toward the approaching vehicle.

The air shimmered with building power.

She drew and fired, drew and fired, each arrow faster than the last. Her fingers moved in a blur, energy arrows manifesting and launching in a continuous stream. The Herrscher had to abort its attack to defend, spatial tears appearing to intercept the barrage. Some arrows made it through, forcing the small figure to actually dodge, floating backward.

The truck was losing altitude, moving on sheer inertia, electronics completely fried, held aloft only by momentum alone.

The Herrscher gestured sharply. A wall of twisted space appeared directly in the truck's path.

The pink-haired woman grinned.

She drew one final arrow, this one different. Larger. It hummed with concentrated energy that made the air around it shimmer. Instead of firing forward, she twisted and shot it straight up. The arrow exploded into hundreds of energy fragments that hung in the air for a heartbeat before raining down like guided missiles.

The Herrscher had to focus entirely on defense, both hands raised to maintain a sphere of distorted space around itself.

Which meant nothing was stopping the truck anymore.

She punched the steering wheel, both breaking it and making the truck roar with a honk, before launching herself into the open air. Behind her, two tons of failing hover-truck continued its trajectory, trailing sparks and smoke.

The Herrscher realized the danger a second too late. Golden eyes widened as the vehicle slammed into her.

Knightmare was falling, but a certain elegant girl was on a direct collision course with him already.

She adjusted her trajectory mid-air, spreading her arms and legs to increase drag, angling herself perfectly. They met not too far above the ground. She caught him gently, one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees. She felt his blood soaking her suit almost immediately.

She landed in a crouch that should have shattered her legs. Instead, pink energy flickered around her. She skidded backward, leaving grooves in the glass, but kept her balance.

The person in her arms was barely recognizable. One arm hung wrong, connected but not functional. His leg was twisted at an impossible angle. There was a hole through his shoulder she could see daylight through, and his chest had been opened. Blood bubbled from his lips with each shallow breath.

There were broken orange glasses on his face, still holding tightly to his nose by some miracle. Most of the orange-tinted glass was cracked or missing.

"Sorry, I am late!" she said, settling him as gently as possible on the ground. She smiled as brightly as she could, but her expression was still twisted by a touch of regret. "You were amazing, truly."

She could see the lines across his body, orange, glowing under the skin. She could see his eyes being unfocused, likely blind already.

She leaned down, planting a short kiss on his forehead.

His mouth moved, trying to form words, perhaps. No sound came except wet gurgling.

"I am... really sorry, it's my fault," she whispered. "I should have been here from the start." She still smiled, because that's what cute girls did.

Because if he could still see, that surely would've been a much nicer sight.

"You are much braver than I to fight here alone, to fight first." She said softly, trailing her fingers across his chest, but seeing the wounds, she withdrew her fingers after a brief moment of hesitation.

She met the dying man's eyes, as well as she could, positioning herself just right.

"If you can hear me still... and if you have any last words, I promise to let them know."

His eye was going distant, unfocused. But something in them changed. There were tears in them; they were red and bloodshot, but there was something else.

Something Elysia had trouble relating to.

Desperation so vivid it hurt to look at. Despair so deep she felt small.

She saw the exact moment. When those eyes widened, staring straight through her, but this wasn't the death's touch. It was a shock, as far as she understood.

She felt it, traveling in the air around them, reality bending in a way that felt impossible.

Then he started laughing. Wet, choking laughter that sent blood streaming from his mouth, but definitely laughter.

Gold, violet, and dark exploded outwards into a vortex, in and around the pink girl whose eyes widened, as she was pushed back by a wall of force that came out of nowhere.

There was a sensation she couldn't describe. Power. Power in a form she didn't know. Power in a shape she couldn't recognize. Power that licked her skin, even through the protective suit, and touched the air, the ground, the space, and even her soul.

She saw it, how the human form twisted under it. How the shadow, tinted gold and violet, flowed into him, making the lines across his body crack, break down, and dissipate into the endless torrent of power.

She saw the wounded figure floating into the air, still laughing, still lying on his back, as strings of energy flew inwards, as the skin turned to crystal and rock-like scales, as the glasses exploded into orange flame, only to solidify a moment later, become something else, like a long crystal, as the human figure was distorted, turning into a demonic visage.

She saw limbs twisting back in place, and wounds knitting back faster than the eye could blink, as the explosion of energy pushed her back even further, her boots sliding across glass.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw a Herrscher, now freed from the car that was thrown away, floating, her eyes locked on the figure... that didn't seem to pay her any attention at all.

The voice grew more deranged, more excited, more barking and static, as if it belonged to something animalistic and distorted.

"...ahahahah, now I AM A LITTLE MOTIVATED!"

The ground cracked, and the world exploded, as Knightmare lived again.

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Author Notes: I think most know what is going on here. Gentlemen, cinema is coming.

On that note, tell me whatcha think. Unfortunately writing out the whole fight that chapter would've been too much.