TOS - Vol 2, Pt 4, Ch 37

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 37: The Unexpected Factor

The Nemesis had won. Though the majority of the Fortress had been secured, the Nemesis had won. In his hand, swirling mystically and lighting the darkened office, was the Overlord’s soul. It was ordinary in appearance- I mean, as far as souls went. Though he’d expected something a tad more grand, it still gave him that sensation of triumph. He grinned, laughed a bit, back turned to the doorway. By now, he had presumed the rest of DIB as deceased, and this left him without the weights that had been holding him down. He was free from the Dark Ice Brotherhood, left to stand as the new Overlord. Except, perhaps he’d come up with a better title than she had. Something more fitting.

But that was where the Nemesis had gone wrong in his plans. True enough, the Overlord lay, unconscious, without her soul and willpower to fight against him. His presumptions, though, created error, and from that error birthed the revival of hope. The climax of the story was not over. Turning at the sound of footsteps, the Nemesis continued to hold the Overlord’s soul in one hand, her body motionless, though still alive. The darkened hallway revealed a silhouette, thin, but strong. Brief light from the Overlord’s soul showed a sparkle, a glint- a sword.

“Who...?” the Nemesis questioned, pale ice narrowed in confusion.

“Warwick,” the Insurgent Leader stated, stepping into the office with as much of a warrior’s swagger as he could manage. His muscles were tensed, Muramasa in hand, and his eyes were locked upon the Nemesis. “Put her soul back.”

The Nemesis was taken aback. Shuffling a step back, he watched the small blonde take a few more steps forward, bristling at the armored warrior. “What is this?” the Nemesis inquired, eyebrows quirked, “A challenge? A betrayal? Did you think you could double-cross me, Thomas?”

“I did think I could. And it looks like I managed it just fine,” the Insurgent Leader’s tongue was a sharp as a whip. The Nemesis was almost reminded of the Overlord- almost. Muramasa was held at a battle stance now, the Uberlord’s old blade radiating off the golden light. The Nemesis set the golden sphere onto the desk, its light the only thing in the room.

“You’re a lot of talk for a munchkin,” the Nemesis sneered, “Dare you bite the hand that feeds you?”

The Insurgent Leader responded by swiping at the Nemesis, both hands fastened upon Muramasa’s hilt. A wave of darkness spew from the blade, knocking the Nemesis back. Charging forward, the Insurgent Leader slammed the Nemesis into the rail, almost knocking the lanky warrior over the edge. The Nemesis retaliated, slamming a fistful of ice into the Insurgent Leader’s face. Staggering back, the Insurgent Leader was blinded for a moment, enough time for the Nemesis to grab his scythe and make a strike. A flailing arm knocked the head of the scythe away, the Insurgent Leader able to gather enough footing to still himself. With a free hand, he sent another wave of darkness at the Nemesis, gritting his teeth together in frustration. The Nemesis swiped his hand in a chopping motion, the waves drifting away.

Slicing through the air, the scythe met Muramasa in a resounding clang of metal. The Insurgent Leader threw his back into the blow, pushing against the Nemesis’ scythe with all of his strength. Though the Nemesis knocked him back, the Insurgent Leader twisted around, longsword striking the Nemesis’ shoulder and denting his armor. The Nemesis cringed before sending an icicle at the Insurgent Leader, shouting, “I liked it better when you were on my side!”

“I liked it better when you were gone!” the Insurgent Leader roared, slamming his sword into the floor. In an extravagant arm gesture, the Insurgent Leader released a spiraling, violet smog, the mouth transforming into a venomous snake’s silhouette. The Nemesis’ scythe sliced through it’s mouth, destroying it in one hit. But as he recovered, the Insurgent Leader sent another strike in, this time a slashing wave of dark magic. As the Nemesis’ cape was torn away from him, the Insurgent Leader pulled Muramasa from the floor and charged once more, clashing against the scythe.

The Nemesis spun around the Insurgent Leader this time, aiming for behind the kneecap. Leaping up into the air, the Insurgent Leader dealt a hefty kick to the Nemesis’ face, sending him back a ways. “You should’ve just stayed missing,” the Insurgent Leader rounded on the Nemesis as the armored warrior dropped back into a fighting stance. With a scoffing chuckle, the Insurgent Leader aimed Muramasa for a stab, “It’d have made things so much easier.”

“For whom? You? The worst hero in history?” the Nemesis taunted coldly.

“I’m her brother. No one messes with her except me,” the Insurgent Leader retorted, stabbing forward with his sword. The Nemesis leapt into the air, sending down a shower of icicles. In one upward swoop, the Insurgent Leader annihilated the icicles, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration. This fight was getting nowhere, he feared.

“We were all siblings at some point. Though maybe not by blood. I was lucky to break away from that,” the Nemesis sneered after he landed, turning to face the blonde.

“The teachings from Tamashii still live in today. In me. In her. In you, too, Warwick,” the Insurgent Leader held up Muramasa in one hand, “The stakes may have changed and the times may be different, but I know the old you is still in there... Past the armor and icy demeanor, but still in there. And she knows it’s there, too.”

“Are you counting on me to go through some sappy change of heart and forget this?” the Nemesis asked mockingly, “Because it won’t happen. Thomas, I’ve already won. I already have her. And you can be added to the collection, too. Either way, I’ve dominated the unbeatable Overlord. I’ve secured my throne. What more must I do to prove to you that your quarrel with me is futile?”

“Either you die or I die. Someone doesn’t leave this battlefield alive,” the Insurgent Leader retorted and charged forward, “And I refuse to die when my sister needs me!”

“Such loyalty to the one you hate... Why?” the Nemesis challenged, lifting his hand. As he did so, a spire of ice shot up from the ground, nearly impaling the Insurgent Leader. As the nimble warrior dodged the ice, he bounced off the wall and struck the Nemesis in the side, sending both ex-ninjas falling to the ground. The Nemesis kicked the Insurgent Leader off and over his head in a fluid motion, grabbing his scythe and smacking the Insurgent Leader in the head with its butt.

“Blood runs thicker than water,” the Insurgent Leader rolled over and jumped to his feet.

“You’ll see how thick blood runs when I’m through with you,” the Nemesis snorted.

“That didn’t sound right... At all,” the Insurgent Leader remarked, summoning seven black orbs that circled around him. One by one, the orbs flew at the Nemesis, who knocked them each in turn away. After the final orb was struck down, the Insurgent Leader struck, blade cutting through a portion of the Nemesis’ armor. As the Nemesis staggered back, the Insurgent Leader struck him in the helmet with the pommel of his sword.

‘FINISH HIM!’ something seemed to scream into the Insurgent Leader. Poising the sword to stab down into the Nemesis’ chest, the Insurgent Leader began to stab when the Nemesis grabbed Muramasa’s blade, the edge cutting his hands deeply. With a flick of his wrists, the Insurgent Leader flew overhead, landing on his back with a heavy thud. The world was dizzying for a moment, but the Insurgent Leader rolled over, rising to his feet slowly in time to see the Nemesis discard Muramasa, the longsword almost falling over the edge of the rail.

“Now where were we?” the Nemesis turned to face the Insurgent Leader, scythe in his hands.


---


The world was white. It was stereotypically white. Blindingly so, to the point that the Overlord turned over, her head throbbing painfully. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered to open her eyes- she knew she was dead. But when she found whiteness instead of the presumably dark pits of Hell, she was astounded... then a tad disappointed. She pushed herself up, looking around the emptiness and briefly wandering if she had ended up in some remote part of the Matrix. It was highly doubtful, however, that such had happened, and decided to rise to her feet. As she did this, a form passed by her, hard to see due to the lighting, but recognizable as a woman.

“Hey!” the Overlord held up a hand, looking at the woman as she walked away. She wasn’t unordinary looking. Her eyes were green, her hair blonde, though the Overlord could tell it was dyed. As the woman looked at her, the Overlord felt a sudden overwhelming sensation of recognition. “Do I know you?”

The woman didn’t respond. She merely looked at the Overlord, green eyes unblinking for a minute at least before she seemed to realize that she was staring. As she turned away, the Overlord asked, “Am I dead?”

“No.”

‘So she does talk,’ the Overlord thought, but as she began to say something else, the woman vanished. As the Overlord blinked, she was gone. Simply gone. There was no trace, and as the Overlord reached out to touch where the woman had been standing feet away, she found emptiness. She found nothing. Turning away in dismay yielded catching sight of the Theurgist, who looked, for once, to not be transparent at all. He looked real- alive, if you will. This caused the Overlord to be taken aback- maybe the woman had been lying? “So I am dead...”

“No, you’re fine, actually,” the Theurgist remarked, “You’re just unconscious right now. But don’t worry. Everything will make sense later. You didn’t bother reading my letter to you, did you? I could’ve told you this was going to happen.”

“Thanks...” the Overlord said dryly, “Thanks for mentioning it to me to begin with. Like when we were getting troops. Or when you were telling me the Nemesis was Warwick. Could’ve mentioned it then. Why didn’t you?”

“I figured you knew.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“It’ll have to suffice. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“Then that’s it? He wins, I lose?”

“No.”

“No?”

The Theurgist chuckled, hands in his pockets as he looked down, “Oh Overlord, you’re too funny.” He chuckled again, stroked his goattee, then said, “The world comes to moments like these once per century. Do you know what these moments are? They’re called... A crisis. More or less. Critical moments in the universe. Where everything falls on one action. God created an action to be... well, for lack of a better word, acted so the universe wouldn’t collapse. And we all know the Nemesis will screw things up to the point that it does collapse, so the Nemesis is the crisis, here...”

“Why are you telling me this?” the Overlord asked, “What are you babbling about?”

“The answer to life. The universe. And everything,” the Theurgist retorted.

“42?” the Overlord quirked an eyebrow.

“Better. Henosis,” the Theurgist folded his arms, “When I was studying magic, I came across it many times. It’s a spell, as you know, that binds a mortal to God himself. Granting unlimited power. Now... I thought, in my naivity, that a single mortal could summon God himself to the battlefield. I realized after reading several texts in the Afterlife Library- great place, you should check it out once you die- and I realized that such a spell was actually given to Adam and Eve. Which means that magic has existed for a very, very, very long time...”

“Okay, you kinda lost me... but keep going. Cut to the chase,” the Overlord folded her arms as well. “Adam and Eve?”

“Henosis... Needs an Adam and an Eve. A man and a woman. It can only be completed by a man and a woman. Because that’s the way God intended it to be,” the Theurgist said seriously. “That is why I died, Overlord. Because I tried to do this by myself. And you know... You’re not alone. And you don’t have to do this by yourself.”

“Are you saying I need to find a guy and do a Henosis with him? ... That sounds dirty,” the Overlord frowned, “What guy? What are the requirements?”

“Uhhh, hi, nice to meet you, Overlord, I’m the Theurgist, I’m a boy,” the Theurgist held out his hand with a chuckle. The Overlord took it, smiling wryly to her deceased friend, “And I can still perform the spell. I know I can. I just need you to be the Eve.”

It was a lot of absorb. The Overlord’s memories flashed before her eyes- of the Theugist’s last moments before seeming to explode in white light. Was this the Henosis spell? Was it a sacrifice? She knew her soul was gone now. Captured, and she was useless at this point. Why was he telling her all of this? There had to be another who could accomplish this task- the Sorceress, the Witch, or even the Evocator. Someone with more knowledge in magic.

“... We don’t have to be naked, do we?” the Overlord inquired in all seriousness.

“... Yes,” the Theurgist nodded, then cracked a rather humored grin at the Overlord’s appalled expression, “No. I need... for you to wake up. And to be able to fight. Can you still muster enough strength to do that?”

“In the real world?” the Overlord asked, voice bitter with regret. Had he not already figured it out? She was useless to the ANF now. She was the Nemesis’ servant. More likely than not, she’d awaken to find herself chained in the Dungeons, the attack on the Fortress futile in the bitter end. The rest of the DIB council might’ve been eliminated, but the head of the army still remained. “He’s taken my soul, Alexi. I-I can’t do anything, now. The task falls to someone else... Someone who can succeed where I’ve failed.”

The Theurgist merely smiled at her, his blue eyes glittering knowingly. “Do not tell the psychic what is to happen or what has happened. Because he already knows.” In a flash, just as the woman had before, the Theurgist faded from view, leaving the Overlord alone in the blank world.

---


Muramasa and the scythe clashed once more. The Insurgent Leader pressed against the blow, dark brown eyes narrowed in rage. ‘I’ll kill him’, he thought, careful to not step on the Overlord’s body as she lay, dormant on the floor. ‘I’ll tear him apart.’ He felt anger within, driving him insane with each strike. A surge of darkness shot from his palm after ducking under the scythe’s blade. As the Nemesis slammed against the wall, the Insurgent Leader charged forward, aiming to stab the Nemesis in the chest. A careful roll to the side and the Nemesis tripped the Insurgent Leader. Landing on one foot and spinning around, the Insurgent Leader dealt a powerful blow to the Nemesis’ breastplate.

The Nemesis grabbed the Insurgent Leader by the collar, lifting him up into the air. With a throw, the Insurgent Leader slammed into the ceiling, missing the ceiling fan by inches, then began to plummet to the ground. The Nemesis swung upward with his scythe, the Insurgent Leader’s boots catching the handle. In a backflip, the Insurgent Leader landed, Muramasa sticking out of the floor, blade embedded in the once-beautiful redwood floor plates. One hand on the longsword’s hilt, the Insurgent Leader tried to pull the blade out of its wooden prison, but found that it was stuck.

“Ha!” the Nemesis laughed, swinging his scythe once more. The Insurgent Leader fell to the ground, grabbing his shoulder in pain as his enemy loomed above him, glaring down with merciless blue eyes. “I always was the strongest of us three. And look, how wonderful it is that we’re all together again...” He spoke lightly to the unconscious Overlord and wounded Insurgent Leader, voice laced with malice. “You and your pathetic war games...” He spoke now, directly to the Insurgent Leader, who took the moment of pause to catch his breath. “Fighting so trivially over this realm. You ought to have known that it was my destiny to lead it.”

“What will you do... Once you’ve taken the Between for yourself?” the Insurgent Leader gasped for air, clutching his wounded arm.

“The Uberlord controlled the flow between Life and Death and I will as well. The Three Realms will merge, with the power bestowed upon me. And there will be one Realm. My Realm,” the Nemesis whispered, “None of this arguing. No politics. Just existence. So that there can be peace and no death.”

“So you’ll shatter the very foundation that the Universe was based on...?” the Insurgent Leader scoffed, “You want to be God? Is that it?”

“I will be God,” the Nemesis replied coolly. The Insurgent Leader held himself up from the ground with one arm, glaring up at the tall armored figure. The Nemesis held the scythe in his hand, “I already am Death... And isn’t that just a step away from godhood, Thomas?”

“You’re crazy,” the Insurgent Leader concluded dryly.

“That may be...” the Nemesis nodded in consideration, then shrugged carelessly, “But I will stop at nothing to achieve my goal. Even if I die, I will rise beyond the grave to kill you, Thomas.” He swung the scythe once more. The Insurgent Leader moved like lightning, hand releasing a massive stream of energy and darkness. As it enveloped the Nemesis, the Insurgent Leader stood up, making a pushing motion with both hands. Lost amidst the black magic, the Nemesis went flying away, slamming through a wall and vanishing entirely from view. The Insurgent Leader sank down to a knee for a moment, panting heavily.

And then he rose, pulling Muramasa out of the floor with both hands. Sheathing the longsword on his back, the Insurgent Leader walked to the Overlord’s broken desk, looking at the golden sphere that glowed despite the shadows surrounding the office. Scooping the small sphere in both hands, the Insurgent Leader looked down at it, feeling the warmth in his palms. “Emily?” he asked quietly, watching how the orb’s glow intensified at his touch. He smiled, despite the crimson painted on his face and the wounds that racked his body with pain. Walking over to the discarded body on the ground, he knelt next to his sister, golden soul still in his hands. With one hand he held up his sister, her head leaning back. The other hand, grasping the soul loosely, was held up in the air, his dark eyes full of concentration.

‘This had better work...’ he thought uncertainly, then gently held the soul to the Overlord’s chest, watching as the sphere’s tendrils reached out and attached itself to the Overlord. The Insurgent Leader tilted his head to the side as the soul suspended itself in midair, though connected once more with its original self. With two fingers, he gently tapped the soul, watching as it glided in, and melded back into the unconscious body.

A few seconds later, and the Overlord awoke, twitching and spasming as she came back to reality. Hand reaching up and grabbing the Insurgent Leader’s unwounded shoulder, she sat there for a minute, her body still injured from the previous fight. There was a moment where the Insurgent Leader awkwardly didn’t let go of the Overlord, and she sat in silence, taking in a deep breath.

“Where is he?” the Overlord asked, looking about the office. Her eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light.

“I don’t know,” the Insurgent Leader answered uncertainly, “He went through the wall. He’ll be trying to flee, I would guess...”

“I need to find him before I lose him forever,” the Overlord pulled away from the Insurgent Leader, painfully rising to her feet. “I know... What I need to do now.” She helped the Insurgent Leader to his feet, still feeling weakened.

“You need to rest,” the Insurgent Leader tried, but knew that arguing with her was useless. He lowered his head at her piercing green glare, knowing that she would not listen to his pleas. “... I understand.” He mumbled, relenting and sighing at the same time.

The Overlord nodded, her eyes moving to the ground. Her hand grabbed her stomach, which had stopped bleeding but still ached terribly, “Thank you... Baby brother,” she whispered, “For... saving me...” She and the Insurgent Leader met eyes for a moment, the winds raging through the opened office wall dying down for the moment. The Overlord felt compelled to do something- hug him, cry into his shoulder and tell him how much she cared about him, or maybe even just clap him on the back in a friendly manner. Instead, she nodded again, tearing her gaze away from him and taking a step towards the hall to find her enemy.

“You don’t... Need my help, do you?” the Insurgent Leader asked quietly.

“Evacuate the building,” the Overlord turned and glanced at him from the corner of her eye, “Thomas... I don’t know what will happen.”

The Insurgent Leader was silent, but knowing. He swallowed, head bobbing up and down vigorously, “I.... I understand...” And then, he tried to smile at her, but it seemed more like a forced grimace, “Don’t... Get your soul... Taken away again... Please...”

The Overlord’s hand grabbed the doorframe for support, but she nodded, “I’ll take that advice into careful consideration... Thomas.” And she slipped away from the room.

TOS - Vol 2, Pt 4, Ch 36

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 36: Yin and Yang

The battle went from slightly chaotic, to complete mayhem in a matter of seconds. When Belarus had lit the beacon atop the wall, the army had done two things. The first was that half of them had warped to various places, although some of them hadn’t thought too well about where they were warping and had, some of them, warped merely a foot away from their previous location. And the second was that the army had officially decided to forsake all plans that were previously made by the Scholar. As DIB and ANF soldiers clashed and intermingled, the battle had turned into a giant collision of fire and ice.

Centurion Ifill had begun holding the battered remains of the gates, ordering the Fort Effort troops from her steed. The Captain and the Lieutenant were each shooting at little winged goblins that were attempting to attack the Sabotage team, who was now stationed on the walltop. The Twin had begun working with how to break open the doors into the Fortress for those who did not have warping abilities. Jamie was clashing with a few little gremlin creatures that DIB had recruited, finding them more annoying that anything.

Some of the troops had broken into the Fortress already, though by means of warping. Sexist was one of those who had piggy-backed off of the Soul-Keeper (literally) a warp into the Fortress. Wandering the halls with his claymore, he found that the majority of the DIB soldiers were outside in the gardens, fighting off the ANF main force. He jogged into the northern portion of the second floor, mindful to keep away from where the Nemesis might be located (he wasn’t about to steal the Overlord’s glory or anything... though the look on her face might’ve been priceless when she found that he had killed the Nemesis before her).

“You!” He froze, turned, and glanced over his shoulder, claymore still in one hand. On the far end of the hall, he had expected to see the Nemesis, but found that Pharisee and Blondie had merely turned the corner in time to see him.

“Oh geez...” Sexist hung his head, turning to face the two DIB members.

“You damn traitor...” Pharisee snarled, “What do you think you’re doing here? Come to grovel to the Nemesis again? He freed you once, don’t think he’ll grant that favor again!”

“No...” Sexist replied, “I’m not here to beg. I’m not here to grovel. I’m here for one purpose and one only...”

“How easily you turn your back on the people that saved you,” Pharisee sneered.

“How easily you preach when you ought to be the one preached to,” Sexist sent a wave of water at Pharisee and Blondie before charging, swinging his claymore in time to clash with Blondie’s sword. The two blondes struggled against each other, but Sexist ultimately overpowered him. Knocking Blondie away, Sexist swung his sword at Pharisee next, catching the false prophet’s arm with his blade. Returning fire with a blow from his staff, Pharisee caused the ex-Insurgent General to stumble, in time for Blondie to lunge forward. Sexist was pinned against the railing, wrestling with Blondie. A careful kick to the stomach sent the DIB member back, and Sexist was able to duck under Pharisee’s fire spell.

Sexist sent a second wave of water at Pharisee, freezing the white-garbed magician’s feet to the floor. As he swung his sword, Pharisee broke through the ice, an explosion of magic wrapping through Sexist’s armor and sending him to his knees. Blondie swung his sword at Sexist’s head, but a careful throw of the arm made the blade sink into the ex-Insurgent General’s forearm. Sexist smashed Blondie against the wall with a fist, reaching down and grabbing his sword in time to stab Pharisee in the shoulder. Pharisee’s white robe was stained with crimson when he sank to his knees, attempting to heal himself.

“Weak,” Sexist snorted, “Both of you...”

As Blondie moved to retaliate from the insult, a katana blossomed from his chest, painted red. As it pulled out, the DIB member fell forward, presumably dead from the fatal blow. The Ninja-Lord stood there, still holding her katana with both hands.

“He’s so damn stupid,” the Ninja-Lord remarked, “I swear, it’s like he dies fifty times each battle.”

“I thought you had decided to sit this fight out?” Sexist asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can never stay away from a good fight,” the Ninja-Lord smiled wryly before looking down at the bloodied Blondie, “I.... spoke out of turn. I owe it to the Overlord to be here for her when she needs me.” Without further explanation, she tossed a smoke bomb into the ground and vanished.

Pharisee gaped, staring at where Blondie had simply been run through with a sword. Sexist grabbed Pharisee by the neck in his shock, hauling him over the side of the rail. In desperation, Pharisee clung to Sexist’s arm, nails scraping the blonde’s arm plate. “Wait... Wait...” Pharisee breathed, “I’ll join you. I’ll fight with you. I can help you... I know magic...”

“You’re a coward,” Sexist sneered, releasing his grip on Pharisee’s collar. As the DIB member began to fall down towards the battle raging below, he sent a spell blasting into Sexist’s face, sending him flying backwards and slamming into the corridor wall. Pharisee landed in a heap on the ground, unconscious and laying amidst the combatants.

---

The Overlord arrived in the main corridor with a very classical kicking-down of the door. Having avoided all battle to save her strength for the Nemesis, she was surprised to find that the main hall was empty except for the members of the platoon she had sent earlier. “Swordmaster!” She called, moving quickly towards the huddled group. Stopping as soon as she realized that something was wrong, the Overlord tilted her head to the side, walking until she loomed over the Swordmaster and where he was crouched.

The Corporal was not faring well. Pale as a ghost and shaking, he lay on the ground, eyes still closed. The Sorceress was the only one attempting to heal him now, the Witch leaning back and shaking her head in dismay. “I-I’ve used up nearly all of my magic on him...” she whispered, looking at the Overlord in remorse. The Overlord removed her helmet, dropping to a knee next to the Sorceress.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked, setting her helmet to the side.

“Poisoned...” the Sorceress was trying to concentrate her magic, but could not. She hung her head, taking in a deep breath before trying again. “He’s not getting better... I-I can’t...”

“He was always like a big brother to me...” the Overlord cast a glance at the Sorceress, perplexed a moment, then looking down at the pale Corporal’s face. She reached down suddenly, resting a hand on his chest, “I have... An idea...”

“What?” the Sorceress asked, watching her with tearful eyes, “What idea?”

“The Jabberwocky’s poison is unlike the poison of most creatures. It’s made of darkness, you see... I did my research on this, once,” the Overlord’s fingers traced the area above the Corporal’s heart, “It’s not regular poison. It attacks the soul, kills it from the inside after it infects. I could... extract the soul... At a price. He’d be an Underling for the rest of his life.”

“Do it... Please... Just save him!” the Sorceress begged suddenly, “Please...”

The Overlord cast a glance at the Swordmaster for approval. When he merely inclined his head, the Overlord grabbed the Corporal by both of his shoulders, sending forth a wave of magic through him. He spasmed, shaking even more. His eyes opened a moment before rolling back into his head, his limbs lashing out spontaneously. “Get back!” the Overlord yelled, sending forth another wave. “I have to get him to give up his soul first... And I don’t think he’s going to be very compliant!” A third wave.

“Is she... hurting him?” the Evocator asked, standing there in awe and shock.

“To get his soul vulnerable, yes...” the Swordmaster glanced at the Sorceress, putting an arm around her comfortingly.

A fourth wave and the golden wisps began to come into view. The Overlord moved like lightning, snatching the orb in both hands and pulling as hard as she could. As the soul ripped free from the Corporal’s chest, she felt it fall into her hands, glowing brightly. “Errr... Here...” She handed the pulsing, living orb to the Sorceress, “Put it someplace safe, okay? And stay with him until he wakes up.”

“Where are you going?” the Sorceress asked quietly.

“The Nemesis is still in here somewhere. I need to find him and end what he began...” the Overlord rose from the ground, placing her helmet atop her head once more. She paused to turn and glance at the ice that clotted the pillars. As her eyes rested upon the Theurgist’s body, she recoiled, looking down, then away from the corpse until her eyes traveled to the Evocator. “Are you...?”

“I’ll be fine...” the Evocator said firmly, despite the flood of tears in her eyes, “Go. Avenge him. For me and him.”

“He loves you,” the Overlord said at last, “And he always will.”

“And I love him, too,” the Evocator looked down at her hands, biting her lip and taking in a deep breath, “I’ve been looking forward to this for awhile now. Freedom from the burden.”

“The burden will still be there. He’ll still be gone even after I’ve killed the Nemesis,” the Overlord lowered her head, “But you can rest... Knowing that the Nemesis won’t do that to anyone else.” The Evocator threw her arms around the Overlord, squeezing her tightly in a hug. The Overlord embraced her as well, but released her quickly. “I have to go now...”

“We’ll be waiting for you...” the Evocator released the Overlord, nodding firmly.

“Good luck, Em,” the Witch added, “Knock ‘em dead!”

The Overlord laughed humorlessly, then began toward the staircase, a bit disgruntled that it had been demolished by the Jabberwocky’s heavy corpse. A leap and a bound, and the Overlord had climbed the dead beast’s neck, stepping lightly until she climbed its head. Hopping from its nose to the balcony of the second floor, she felt the sudden sense of solitude overwhelm her. It was as every final battle she faced- the ringing silence in her ears and the rush of blood in her veins. This was her mission, though, she was sure of it. This was fate. God might have sent her to purge the Second Realm of the Uberlord and his Dark Legion, but she knew that, without a doubt, her destiny lay at the end of the hall, in her old office.

It was time to say goodbye to the days of running from the Dark Ice Brotherhood. It was time to say goodbye to the old memories she had put away out of fear, out of shame. It was time to avenge her friend. It was the time she had been waiting for since she had been exiled. Since the Insurgent Leader had beaten her that day in the Wasteland. Ever since Warwick had nearly taken her soul the first time- it was the hour where she could put that all behind her... forever.

She smiled, briefly for a moment, before rounding the corner. The body of Blondie lay, smeared with blood and the scent of smoke clotting her lungs. Coughing the Overlord recognized the smell- the stench of a smoke bomb. ‘Ninja-Lord? Did you come here after all?’ She was thankful, but knew she had no time to seek her friend out. Glancing at where Sexist lay, the Overlord thought, momentarily, that he was dead. However, she bent over him, looking him over briefly before concluding he was alive. Reaching down, she tapped him on the shoulder, her gloved hand making scarcely a noise against his armor.

But it was enough to stir him. She was satisfied with a groan of disapproval, and watched as his blue eyes opened. “You’re alive,” she observed, arms folded, “What are you doing so far away from the rest of the pack?”

“Pharisee...” Sexist mumbled, looking around. Clasping his head, he moaned and wiped some drying blood from the side of his face, “... God, I hate him...”

“He’s no where around here,” the Overlord replied, her tone rather frosty, “Can you get up?”

“Yeah...” Sexist nodded, pulling himself up into a standing position.

“There’s people down the stairs in the next hall. You’re wounded. See to it that you don’t get your ass killed. I don’t want to lose any more minions than I have to,” the Overlord said rather gruffly. Sexist locked eyes with her momentarily, then nodded, wordlessly turning away. Green eyes narrowed at his retreating figure, the Overlord thought, ‘No... I still don’t forgive you. And I don’t think I ever will...’ She glanced down at where Blondie lay, stepped over him, then walked towards her office, as calmly as she could muster.

She felt images of her past fight with the Nemesis fly through her mind’s eye. As she neared the door to her room, she felt the heaviness of the past few months suddenly weigh down upon her. Removing her staff from its sheath, she grasped it tightly in her right hand, left hand reaching out to open the door into the office. As the door creaked open, she found that the lights were all turned off within- even the fireplace. The ice that overran the office seemed to have consumed everything in sight, glistening off the hall lights ominously.

The Overlord stepped in, surprised that she didn’t fall upon the ice at the first step. Her boots melted through and cracked the layers that sheeted the floor, making moving not as difficult as she had originally anticipated. Cracks of steps could be heard deafeningly in the silence, looking directly over at the leather chair she used to sit in. As it was turned away from her, she expected this was where the Nemesis was sitting. More likely than not, he would turn to face her; turn, say something witty, then begin the final battle.

As she reached the desk, the chair did not turn. It did not move. So, she reached out with a hand and turned the chair, jumping back despite the lack of a person there. “Empty?” she mused, but a stirring to her right made her turn away. He stood by the empty fireplace, no helmet and a glass of wine in his hand.

“I was wondering when you would get here. I’ve grown awfully bored.”

“Took me awhile to dismantle your shield,” the Overlord fought to keep her voice steady. “But I’m here now.”

He took a long drink from the wine glass, then sat it aside, incredibly fluid with his motions. “How long have you known?” He had noted that she was not surprised by his lack of helmet or his identity. The Overlord allowed herself to temporarily lower her guard.

“Two days. Three. I don’t remember. But I do remember everything else,” the Overlord replied, “What you did to me all those years ago. Yes, Warwick, I remember that. I remember why you left, originally. I remember all of it... Big brother.” Her voice was getting as cold as his was. Impulses and rage were clawing at her- she could feel the need to revert to Saevio inside her chest and it killed her that she could not.

The Nemesis chuckled, smiled, then turned around, his stinging blue eyes meeting hers. She recoiled slightly, but tried not to let it show. But she knew that he had noticed. “We’ve both changed,” he ran a hand through his light, short burgundy hair, “... Gotten older... But we’re still the same inside, aren’t we? We always were the same... You’re so much like me. Fighting tooth and nail to achieve what you want...”

“We’re nothing alike!” the Overlord argued suddenly, bristling as she glared at the Nemesis, head craned back slightly, “We’re like fire and ice, Warwick, we always were. And... I’m done having you haunt my dreams. I could go on for freaking hours about how you’ve screwed everything up in my life... But why waste my breath on you?”

“Why would I want to hear your little sob story anyways? We all know how this will end. I’ve beaten you twice before,” the Nemesis retorted frostily, “This is the tragic ending of everyone in your family, it seems. A reign put to rest by a heavenly-blessed warrior. It’s almost ironic.”

“You’re the reason all of this happened. I should thank you, though... For making me stronger,” the Overlord spat, “It was cruel and sadistic, Brother, but it was really kind of you.” She held her staff up with both hands, “I wonder... Did you think I’d curl up and die when you took everything away from me? Did you think I’d give up?”

“Which time?” the Nemesis taunted, pulling out the Overlord’s scythe. Her eyes widened as she looked at her old weapon, longing to hold it once more. “The time that I had your very essence in my hands... or the time I reaped your powers from you? I must admit, the only reason I never pursued you myself was because I knew you’d come back to me eventually. And here you are... Dinner on a silver platter, and you walked yourself right up into my room. You’re too kind.”

“Enough of the banter. I’ve... I’ve nothing more to say to you!” the Overlord screamed, both ends of the staff igniting with a green flame.

“Good. Because I’d rather just cut to the chase, too,” the Nemesis held the scythe with both hands, lunging forward as the Overlord did. Twisting her body around, the Overlord dodged the Nemesis’ blow, striking him in the head with one end of the staff. The Nemesis spun the scythe over his head, striking the air above the Overlord’s head. She ducked and kicked at the back of his knee. As he stumbled forward, he grabbed his glass of wine and tossed it at the Overlord. A lifted palm released a swirl of flame, incinerating the glass immediately.

The Overlord blocked a blow from the scythe with her staff using the momentum to move around the Nemesis and strike at his long legs again. He slammed his foot onto her shin, causing her to fall to the ground. As he lifted his scythe to slam down into her side, she smacked him in the face with the end of her staff. He fell back, though sent a blast of icicles at the Overlord. Melting them before they could make contact, the Overlord rose to her feet, staff still in hand. Jumping towards the Nemesis, she began a series of very complicated strikes, striking him several times in the chest with the fiery ends of the staff. He grunted, slammed against the wall and the scythe flying from his grasp. The Overlord grabbed his collar and sent a rather vivid blast of magic through him, causing the wall to crack. The Nemesis pushed her off of him, however, concocting an icicle and sending it down at her. As the icicle pierced through her leg, the Overlord realized that the Nemesis was gaining the advantage here.

The scythe was in his hand again as he charged, turning over the desk entirely. As the scythe’s blade came hurtling down, the Overlord rolled out of the way, grabbing her staff and sending a blast of fire into his chest. It dented and bent the armor, but did not seem to do much other than that. Dismayed, she melted the icicle in her leg and sent a swirl of fire through the wall, exposing the balcony entirely. She moved out into the brief rays of sun that were beginning to break through the clouds.

“Do you really think you can kill me with that?” the Nemesis remarked, pointing at the staff. He chuckled, then lunged, sending a wave of black magic at the Overlord. As she deflected it with her staff, he struck with the scythe, scratching her shoulder and knocking her back against the rail. He came hurtling at her once more, but the Overlord rolled out of the way at the last minute, watching as the Nemesis’ scythe was caught in the rail. He released the handle immediately, the scythe teetering on the ledge. As he turned, he received several strikes from the staff, nearly forcing him over the edge. He pulled the scythe from where it was caught, shattering some of the railing in the process. A few smoldering flames met his face momentarily, burning the left side of his face. As he cooled it with a spell, the Overlord kicked the scythe from his hands, making a move to grab it for herself.

The Nemesis grabbed her wrist instead, incasing her hand in a wrap of ice that attached her to his own arm. Trying to pull away, the Overlord dug her heels into the ground, but the Nemesis overpowered her. Flinging her over the rail, the ice shattered into a thousand pieces, falling over the edge as well. The Overlord summoned a platform almost immediately and rolled over. Jumping back onto the balcony, the Overlord noted that the Nemesis had his scythe once more.

“This is a very level fight...” the Overlord panted a moment, then remarked, “I guess that’s what happens when you put two Tamashii ninjas in the same battlefield...”

“No. I reject Tamashii. All they ever did was teach weakness when they could have been powerful,” the Nemesis snarled.

“So you reject honor?” the Overlord scoffed, “How very much like you...”

“You accept weakness. That’s fine... Accept defeat as well,” the Nemesis sent a spiral of ice magic at her, which was met with fire magic. As the Overlord recovered, the Nemesis sent a second wave of ice, though it attached her feet to the balcony. In a lightning-fast strike, the scythe’s blade was embedded into her stomach, sending a spray of blood as he pulled it out of her. The Overlord’s feet had melted through by now, but she fell forward, grasping where the scythe had cut clean through her armor. Her helmet had fallen off by now and lay discarded on the balcony, yards away.

“Do you see now? You will never win,” the Nemesis asked quietly, “So you might as well just accept defeat now...”

The Overlord wasn’t sure what forced her to her feet. She grabbed the scythe’s handle suddenly, the runes on its handle pulsating with a red glow. As she wrenched it from the Nemesis’ hands, she felt a surge of her old strength flow into her veins- momentarily. As the blade cleaved the Nemesis’ shoulder to the wall, she found herself face-to-face with her old friend, blood still cascading onto the ground. The Nemesis’ face was wrought with pain and he tried to move but found himself stuck. Hands grasping the handle next to the Overlord’s hands, he pulled the scythe out, grunting all the while.

The Nemesis and the Overlord began struggling immediately, the Overlord pushing against him and the Nemesis doing the same to her. As she pivoted a foot and turned, the Nemesis lost his balance, though remained clutching onto the scythe. The Overlord swung him around with all of her strength, her back facing the rail. Pressing the handle of the scythe against her collarbone, the Nemesis arched his back and forced the scythe down on the Overlord, smirking as she yelped in pain. He reached out with a hand and touched her stomach wound, flecks of ice formulating around it.

Sinking to the ground, the Overlord released the scythe, clutching the deep stomach wound with a hand. “You’re not fighting nearly at your old potential... Why?” the Nemesis sneered, “Because you’re scared, that’s why. Stupid little girl... Always scared of the things that could kill her.” The Overlord rose from the ground, shakily grabbing onto the rail. Her hand clasped Kagi’s hilt and she pulled it from its sheath.

“That little toy?” the Nemesis remarked, “... Ha. You’re pretty amusing when you’re desperate.”

The Overlord’s eyes darkened and she lashed out, her blow blocked entirely. Forcing herself to leap over the Nemesis’ head, she twisted out of the scythe’s way, hit the ground with both feet, then struck the Nemesis between the shoulder and chest plate. He grimaced as she pulled Kagi from his flesh, a smile playing about her lips. “Toy?” She asked, then struck again, raking the blade against his leg. He responded by slamming the handle of the scythe into her legs, knocking her to the ground. The blade came crashing down once more, though she rolled painfully out of the way.

Rising to her feet, the Overlord lunged at the Nemesis, stabbing at his chest with the fiery katana. The Nemesis avoided the blow entirely, darkness wrapping around his hand as he grasped the Overlord’s neck, suddenly lifting her from the ground. She felt the cold freeze into her lungs, piercing her skin. The Overlord kicked out, but to no avail. His fingers touched the back of her neck lightly, the scythe in the other hand as he held her throat triumphantly.

“I told you it would come to this,” the Nemesis said almost sadly. A pulse of magic coursed through her veins, seeming to freeze her system entirely. She could barely move, much less breathe at this point. “You tried so valiantly to avoid your fate... But this is how it’s supposed to be. The time has come. Your fate has been decided... And your fate is to be mine forever.”

She fell to the ground, the scythe re-entering her torso. A second pulse of magic rocked her body, her wrists held firmly down by ice. The Nemesis held the handle of the scythe with both hands, the blade pinning her down against the ground. As the magic coursed through her, the Overlord found herself trying to remember something. A note... A letter... There was something the Evocator had given her to read. It had been from the Theurgist- something to help her win the fight she knew she had lost long ago.

A suddenly realization and the Overlord could see the scrap of paper in her hand. ‘... before you leave to fight the Nemesis, you will...’ What had the last word been? She knew it now. She knew it with a heavy heart, a painful dawning, and she couldn’t believe it hadn’t hit her before. to remember what the Theurgist had said. ‘Lose.’ The last word had been ‘lose’.

‘And you need to know that, before you leave to fight the Nemesis, you will lose.’

The pulses of magic had stopped, and yet she could not feel the scythe anymore. It was still there, stabbing into her and killing her. The Overlord felt dizzy, her vision fading in and out of view. It was a familiar feeling, a sickening feeling that she knew too well. Gold crowned her chest, tendrils emerging from her heart and licking the sky. She tried to move her arm, but couldn’t, and fell still, her eyes half-lidded as the Nemesis bent down, a triumphant look in his eyes.

“It’s over,” the Nemesis’ voice was very soft, almost pleasant to hear. She felt his hands clasp the golden orb, a tug that sent chills down her spine. It felt like a dream- like one of those nightmares that had plagued her. “I’m sorry, Ems...” She felt a sudden rip, a surge of pain in her chest. She thought she heard someone scream, but she was convinced that this person was her. The world was spinning suddenly, the orb of gold in the Nemesis’ palm, wavering as if to tell her goodbye. She felt darkness and shadows ebb away at her. Was this death? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t... Her will to care, her will to fight it, had all gone away. She closed her eyes and felt herself fade away.