Chapter Fifty: The Smell of Fire.

***

Canterlot LZ.

"Move these soldiers out, double quick!" somebody yelled. All around the courtyard, knights of Albion and soldiers from the BDF were moving. Groups of troopers were jogging to and fro, setting up defensive positions as they prepared to defend the LZ. More were assembling into their squads, knowing that soon they would need to move out.

A handful of transport helicopters landed, some of them lugging vehicles. Jeeps and modified civilian cars with turrets bolted to the rear were being landed. Many of the jeeps were driven by Resistance unicorns, the pedals, steering wheels, and seats all modified to make the vehicles maneuverable by pony. Mopeds with similar modifications driven by unicorns were buzzing around, the speedy little vehicles ideal for lightning-fast raids and harrying runs. Ponies with P220’s and their steadiers were moving out slowly, and human soldiers were loading up.

A variety of machines, some of them top-of-the-line tanks and some of them modified Land Rovers or ancient machines from decades past were being rolled off of the gargantuan helicopters they had been carried in. Ammunition and fuel followed them as engineers and technicians of every type began to carefully check the machines they had been assigned to, many of them complaining to whoever was nearby that the transports had not been designed to carry so much weight at once.

Despite the battle that was raging overhead, a steady column of transports was moving back and forth from the portal to the city, carrying reinforcements and supplies whilst dodging gunfire and spells as they went. Pegasi squadrons were, in many cases, fighting a (proverbial) running battle to keep the Royal Guard from attacking the transports, and in some cases they were too slow, and a transport or two would be hit or damaged and go careening off into the void, smashing into the Canterhorn or - in some unlucky cases - into the streets of Canterlot itself. There was no doubt in anyone or anypony’s mind that whatever side won this conflict, there would be a lot of collateral damage to repair.

And that was without the battle between the Avatar and Solamina - though the two small figures could no longer be seen, the sky was still dark and great, deep thundering sounds could still be heard from the heart of the city, like great thunderclaps that rang just a tiny bit too metallic for anyone to seriously think it was just thunder. Everypony and everyone knew, hearing those sounds, that their fates would not be decided by their own actions, so much as they would be decided by the battle being fought between those two godlike beings.

Still, there was nothing to be done to help the Avatar, and so the soldiers of the Resistance and BDF continued to prepare for the final end.

At the head of a column of Night Guard who had just been flown in and assembled into ranks stood Lyra and True Grit, their armour dented and scratched from hours of fighting already, and yet the two of them had never felt more ready. Ahead of them marched Dinky Doo and Prince Blueblood, the former looking resolute and angry, and the latter looking a combination of eager and nervous.

"Ponies!" Blueblood yelled, not turning to look at the column. "Let’s go take back our home!"

There was a whoop of approval, deep and angry, from the column as a whole. These were ponies who had seen their home taken from them, their families killed, or else separated from them. These were ponies who had lost everything.

Now they were going to take it all back.

The march was slow but resolute, armour clanking and clinking as they marched. Spears were raised into marching stance. the Night Guard banner, the crescent moon symbol of Luna and the compass rose of Blueblood, rose into the air and flew proudly behind Blueblood himself. They were the very model of heroes of Equestria’s ancient past, off to war.

If only it were so romantic.

"Hey, Grit," Lyra whispered as they marched, looking nervous. "You’ve got my back, right?"

"Yeah," Grit said. "You’ve got mine?"

"Yeah," Lyra said, smiling nervously. "Good luck."

"You too," the former Guard said with a slight smile. "I think we’ll need it."

And so on they marched, toward destiny, not knowing what their march would bring, only knowing that one way or another the end of the war was upon them...

***

Streets of Canterlot.

"Keep fighting!" the Undead yelled. By now the pounding in his head was so loud he couldn’t even tell what he was hearing. Blood thundered in his ears, and he relished every second of it.

He knew it was almost heretical to think it, but he felt alive, moreso even than on Life Day. This… this was what he had longed for. This wasn’t just purpose. This was destiny, pure and true: this was where he would meet his enemy in battle, and he would defeat it. This was why he had remained here, why his body had not died.

This was meant to be.

"Sir!" he heard Kraber yell. "We’ve got these bliksems on the run!"

It was true - the Militia line was breaking, chopped apart with an avalanche of bullets, their misplaced fury and faith in the Tyrant not enough to withstand the fury of the Dead. Already their forces were pulling back, spells flying over shoulders like hastily fired pistol shots. The Undead grinned.

"Keep fighting!" he called. "Victory is at hand!"

A cheer went up from the line of Dead Men. In that moment, the Undead felt a great wave of joy - he and his brothers and sisters had found purpose waiting for them. As one, they surged forward, needing no orders, pursuing the Militia and firing as they charged, picking off stragglers.

As they reached the square that the street they were fighting in opened up to, they saw what their enemy had been retreating towards. A great horn-note rang out, deep and foreboding, and the Militia turned to face the oncoming Dead, who first slowed, then stopped as they saw what their enemies had been falling back to meet.

A fresh group of Converted, these ones in heavier armour, were stood beneath a resplendent banner showing the Earth eclipsed by a great, overpowering sun, within which a motto in Latin had been printed.

ASTRA SOLAMINA MAXIMA AETERNA.

This was the banner of Sol Invictus, chief agitator and commander of the combined Solaminan Church and Equestrian Militia. He himself was stood at the head of this group, his eyes narrowed in righteous contempt at the assembled humans and ponies of the Dead. He wore a great red cloak and a shining golden breastplate that looked especially polished, and on it there could be seen a dozen lines of what could have been bastardized prayer.

But that wasn’t the worst thing there, for Sol Invictus and his retinue weren’t alone. They were accompanied by two great, towering monoliths: they might have been great golden statues, save for the fact that they moved, and their surface glimmered and seemed almost to have an unnatural, living sheen that warded off the soot of the burning city. Worse still, though, were their eyes: they were hollow, and within them you could see great fires burning like the pits of hell, promising only death for the Dead Men. Great flares of fire shot out from their backs, forming into enormous burning wings of brilliant balefire. Equally intense manes and tails of fire also adorned the enormous constructs, writhing and twisting in a breeze that did not exist except around their shining bodies.

And then one of them opened its mouth.

"Children of Equestria!" it bellowed, it’s voice echoing unnaturally as though it bounced off of every surface in the great square. Fire erupted from its mouth as it once again spoke. "Stand against these accursed invaders!"

"Stand firm against the horde, My Little Ponies!" the other added, it’s voice equally strong, "for your Empress stands with you in spirit!"

As if to prove it’s point, the second statue shot a great gout of eldritch fire out from it’s mouth that shot toward the Dead, incinerating several of them instantly.

"Take cover!" one of the Dead yelled, and they did so immediately.

The Undead cursed his luck. Of all the enemies to run into, they had to run into these… things. The Solar Idols: weapons of war designed to at once inspire terror in the forces opposing Equestria and inspire greater heights of insane loyalty from the Converted. The ultimate propaganda - embodiments of Solamina that brought her wrath down upon the invaders like nothing else could.

"What the fok do we do now?!" Kraber swore from near the Undead, part of his beard singed by the unnatural heat of those flames.

The Undead closed his eyes, focusing on his thoughts for a moment. In the back of his mind, he could hear music faintly banging away, an almost calming rhythm that seemed to fill him with - not peace, but focus. He knew why he was here. He knew what he had come here to do. Damn these things: they wouldn’t stop him. Nothing could. He was the Dead. He’d kill them all.

Slowly, he reloaded his rifle, before grabbing a grenade from his belt and stepping out. He grinned.

"Same thing we always do," he said.

"This seems like a fokking terrible idea," Kraber said, slapping a 100-round pan magazine onto his Bren. "I like it."

"The Dead fear nothing!" he yelled, and he threw the grenade right at the things. The explosion didn’t so much as scratch the Idols, but they did manage to blow several of Sol Invictus’ group apart.

"Come on!" the Undead yelled. "Let’s go kill the bastards!"

He charged without waiting for a response, though he could have sworn he heard Kraber yelling some profanity or another, and other Dead screaming war cries. The Undead fired his rifle as he ran, taking down two more ponies as he ran, before impacting their line. He drew his bayonet and stabbed one, before firing the rifle one handed. He heard the click of an empty chamber and dropped the weapon, moving instead to his pistol and shooting another pony’s head out.

Purpose, he thought to himself. This is purpose.

***

Elsewhere in Canterlot.

Twilight ducked as another magical bolt exploded right behind her. Rainbow and Fluttershy took cover near her, both of them covered in dirt and small scratches.

For the past five minutes, they had been dodging attacks from monstrosity that had once been Princess Luna. The thing was unfortunately tenacious, though - nothing they had was denting it and no spell they could bring up had the power to stop her attacks for long. They had been playing a deadly game of dodge with the creature, avoiding it’s attacks as best they could, but it couldn’t continue forever.

"Fuck this!" she heard Hell Blazer swear, as he threw another fireball out. "Die already you bitch!"

The fireball impacted on the the corpse of Luna, but she had raised a magical shield and the force dissipated. Turning her partially destroyed gaze towards him she fired a spell in return, but Rarity and Springfield had raised a combined shield that managed to stop the blast, though it dissipated as soon as the spell impacted.

"What do we do?!" Applejack yelled from somewhere. The dust and the darkness and the chaos had made it difficult to see where anypony was.

"I’m not entirely certain there’s anything we can do," the Doctor called out, his voice preternaturally calm despite the desperate situation. "I don’t think anything we have can damage it!"

"Buck that!" Rainbow yelled. "There’s always a way to kill something!"

A hail of spells impacted near them, and Twilight cursed. She could see her alternative self nearby, the whorse firing spells off at anypony exposed for more than a few seconds. She scowled, and fired off her own spell, watching with some satisfaction as her doppelganger took cover from the shot.

"Any suggestions?" she asked Rainbow. The cyan Pegasus shrugged.

"You're the egghead, Twi." Rainbow flinched as another spell impacted near them. "Don't you know anything?"

"I've used every spell I can think of!" Twilight insisted. "Short of some kind of exorcism ritual to banish Luna's spirit..."

"I wouldn't try it!" came the grim voice of Hell Blazer as he jumped into cover near them, Springfield in tow. The Converted ponies both looked harried, and Springfield had a cut across his cheek, but otherwise they were fine.

"Why not?" Rainbow asked scathingly. "Seems like exorcism might be the right kinda idea..."

"Sure, it'd get rid of this undead bitch as a problem," Hell Blazer agreed. "But d'you really wanna send Luna's soul to hell?"

Twilight blanched at that. "Is that where...?"

"Exorcism is an imprecise business," Hell Blazer said with a shrug. "Even if we could set up a salt circle, there's no way to be precise with where we send her unless that bitch stays off our backs for long enough, and she won't. Quick exorcism or banishment defaults to Hell or nothingness."

"I..." Twilight stammered.

"We can't!" Fluttershy put in. "It's not Luna's fault this happened any more than it's the Converted's fault they're on Solamina's side - we can't do that to her. There must be another way!"

Another hail of spells slammed into their cover before anypony could say anything. Commander Sparkle appeared to have gotten back into a firing position. Cursing, Twilight raised a shield.

"Go!" she yelled at her friends. Without waiting for her to repeat herself, they took off, Rainbow and Fluttershy shooting into the air and Springfield and Hell Blazer heading for nearby cover. A moment later, Twilight dropped her shield, fired several more spells and then raced after them. She dodged between bits of rubble as her insane counterpart kept throwing spells at her, but none of them hit her. A moment later, she was in cover near the two Converted, just as another spell lanced from the corpse of Luna and impacted near them.

"Shit!" Hell Blazer swore. "This is fuckin' nuts!"

Springfield frowned as another spell exploded into the ground near their position. Commander Sparkle hadn't let up yet.

"How long would you need?" he asked Hell Blazer.

The yellow Converted looked at Springfield as though he had grown two heads. "Beg your pardon?"

"How long to keep her off of your back in order to perform a precise exorcism?!" Springfield snapped.

Hell Blazer frowned at that, but then started mumbling numbers to himself as though considering the question.

"Five minutes," he said after a moment. "I'd need you to keep them both off my back and Luna herself still for five minutes."

Springfield nodded, looking resolute. He turned to Twilight.

"Can you deal with Commander Sparkle?" he asked.

Twilight felt an all-too-right feeling wave of anticipation build in her gut. "Yes. Yes I can."

"Right," Springfield said simply, nodding to himself. "Then I have a plan."

***

Sky above Canterlot.

Errant Flight dodged another Pegasus Guardspony with a slightly wonky manoeuvre - his injury was bleeding and he couldn't keep himself flying entirely straight.

The battle in the sky had not abated, though to anypony watching it would have been all-too obvious how fatigued most of the flyers in the air at the moment were becoming. Pegasi were made for the air, but that didn't mean they could last there indefinitely.

"Interdiction, what is your status?!" he asked, trying not to let his fatigue and injury make him sound weak.

"We’re under heavy attack!", a panicked voice sounded over the comm. "They’re already in the gondola and taken several levels, we’re falling back to the main bridge but there’re only a few of us left and we’ve lost the hanger and the outer decks."

"What about the Core?" Errant asked.

"We lost contact with the engine crew," the voice said. "Last I heard they were barricading themselves in, but there was a large contingent of Guard heading their way."

"Roger that," Errant said. "My ETA is five minutes."

"Grey Leader?!" came a different voice - Dream Flyer. "Flight, what the buck are you doing?!"

"My job, Flyer," he said.

"Pony-Goddammit!" Flyer said. "Do you want to bucking die?!"

"Sorry, Flyer," Errant replied grimly. "Bad line."

He grabbed his comm and threw it off, before turning to Fell Spear, who was right behind him.

"Take my calls, Spear!" he yelled.

"I’m your wingpony!" the Thestral said with an amused grin. "Not your darn secretary!"

Errant grinned back at him, before turning back to look where he was going.

There it was.

The Interdiction was surrounded by Guardsponies and other zeppelins. Resistance flyers and gunships dodged and flew all around, firing on the surrounding Equestria forces, but they weren’t letting up.

Well, there it is, came the voice of Butter Mellow in Errant’s head.

You can take ‘em, came the voice of Ditzy. I believe in you, Flight.

"I know, and I’ve tried my best to live up to that," he replied out loud, grateful that nopony could hear him. "But I’m gonna need more than self-belief this time."

Then how about this, another voice said, quiet and yet louder than them all. You’re Errant Flight. You’re the last member of Grey Squadron. You’re the pony who lived when everypony else died - and you’re the pony who’s gonna save the Interdiction now."

The voice was Cloud Ranger, and hearing her speak - even if it was only in his head - made Errant’s heart swell. He took a deep breath, ignoring the stinging pain of his injury, even as he neared the gondola of the Interdiction.

"Too bucking right I am," he said. He pointed both his wrist-blades forward. "To quote Elliot - come at me, motherbuckers!"

With that, he slammed into a Guardspony who had boarded the gondola, impaling him in the chest and throat. He pushed off of the corpse faster than sight and charged at another Guard, slamming the pony’s spear away and then slicing him across the throat. Two more Guardsponies charged at him, but he span around, blocking blows and then lashing out. A moment later, they were both dead.

Meanwhile, Fell Spear had also landed. The former Night Guard’s moves were methodical, precise and deadly, not a single effort wasted. Anypony who came near him fell to his blades, and nothing could hit him.

Within moments, everypony on the deck they’d landed on was dead, their bodies spread around. Fell Spear was unhurt, and Errant actually seemed to be in better health somehow, most likely running on adrenaline.

Boom! Still got it, Errant, the voice of Lightning Dust said approvingly. He ignored her - there was no need to reply anymore.

Chances are, he’d have all the time in the world to talk to them all soon enough.

"What now?" asked Fell Spear. Errant turned to face him, a grin on his face.

"Engine room," he said. He trotted over to a wall comm nearby. "Bridge? This is Grey Leader."

"Who the buck is that?" came a reply from the intercom. "Where’s Harrow Blade? What company are you with?!"

Errant cursed. "Not yours, motherbucker."

The Guards had taken the bridge - that either meant that the bridge crew were dead, or - if Errant was lucky - captured.

He whacked the comm, before grabbing Fell Spear’s comm device.

"This is Grey Leader to anypony in the area," he said sharply. "The bridge of the Interdiction has been taken, we need support."

"This is Dream Flyer," came the harried sounding voice of his second in command. "We’re on our way to you now. Stay where you are!"

"That’s a negative," Errant replied tiredly, smiling lightly. "Head for the engine room when you get here - they might try sabotaging the Interdiction’s Core, and there might still be crew alive down there."

"Where will you be?" Dream Flyer asked, sounding somewhere between annoyed and worried.

"Me?" Errant asked, grinning. "I’m heading to the bridge. I’ve a zeppelin to take back."

He dropped the comm device before Flyer could reply and marched off, a bemused but resigned Fell Spear following. As they marched, the intercom buzzed and a tinny, panicky voice spoke.

"This is Lieutenant Soft Song! We have unconfirmed reports of Resistance flyers on the outer decks - repeat, Resistance on the outer decks! All Guardsponies, on alert!"

"Sounds like it’s about to get fun," Fell Spear commented.

"Good," Errant said. "I’ve been getting bored."

***

Streets of Canterlot.

A gout of fire shot forth from the mouth of one of the Solar Idols, and the Undead swore as several more of his men were incinerated. At the very least, they didn’t have time to feel the pain - and they had joined their souls in death, doing their duty to the country.

All the same, the Undead would probably have preferred it had the Solar Idols not been slaughtering his forces.

"Die!" he yelled, stabbing one of the Militia that charged him in the chest. "Die!"

The thing fell away and he fired his pistol again, before picking up a discarded rifle and firing it into the throng, killing more ponies. Behind him, he could hear Kraber and the Frenchman - Dupont, his name was, if the Undead remembered accurately - yelling as they fought. Fortunately for those like Kraber whose equipment had been damaged, the Militia didn’t seem interested in Converting anyone - they seemed set on killing their enemies, either by their own hooves or by the flames of the Solar Idols.

"Fight for Empress and Equestria!" one of the Idols bellowed, before shooting another gout of fire from its mouth. More Dead Men found themselves incinerated, and the Undead cursed.

"Keep fighting!" he yelled out. "The Dead fear nothing!"

The cry was echoed amongst the entire Dead Man contingent, but there was no denying that they were wavering - many of them had been killed, and still these things were no closer to falling. Several Dead Men had already fallen back to more defensible locations, firing their rifles from cover - the Undead couldn’t blame them. their duty was to die with purpose, and this might seem like it had none.

Why then was he not retreating? he wondered to himself. If this death serves no purpose, why court it?

Stubbornness and pride had no place in the mind of a man destined to give all of himself to the good of his people. He had always known his death would be one with purpose. It had to be.

He was distracted from his introspection by another gout of fire, and the screaming deaths of more of his men. Cursing, he fired his rifle at the offending Solar Idol until the hammer slammed on empty, before dropping the weapon and returning to his bayonet, fighting more of the Militia.

"Keep fighting, brothers and sisters!" bellowed the voice of Sol Invictus, and the Undead growled. If he could get one hit at that spouting pontificating little shit, he’d happily meet his soul a happy man.

As if on cue to the agitator’s words, another gout of flame shot out. The Undead cursed and took cover behind a bit of shattered masonry. Kraber and Dupont sheltered near him, the former looking battered but energised.

"These heathens will not stand before the might of Her grace!" Invictus yelled as the Idols continued spouting flames.

"Give me a shot at that fokking little bliksem Invictus," Kraber said from behind the Undead. He spat and wiped his mouth. "I’ll take the little fokker out!"

"You’d never get close to him, Kraber," the Undead said quietly. He frowned. "But…"

He turned to look at the resplendent banner as it fluttered in the breeze made by the fire and the fighting. He grinned.

"How good a shot are you, Kraber?" he asked quietly.

"A fokkin’ awesome one, sir," the German replied without pride. "At this range, I can guarantee I'll leave just enough of his brain to make a certain somepony regret every-fokkin’-thing he's done."

"You’re not killing Invictus," the Undead said with a smile. "I want you to get to a vantage-point in a building and take out the banner-bearer."

"The banner bearer?!" Kraber repeated with a frown. "Why the fok would I waste a bullet on him when I could kill Invictus?"

"Just trust me, Kraber!" the Undead said, grinning beneath his mask. "Get to a building. Take Dupont and grab a good rifle. Make him dead."

"Already on it, sir," Kraber said after a moment’s pause. He didn’t look happy about leaving the main part of the battle, but he followed orders - they all did. He jogged off, Dupont at his back.

The Undead turned to see the Idols spouting more fire. Sighing, he fired his pistol, before drawing his bayonet and charging back into the fray.

"Everyone into close combat!" he yelled. "They won’t burn their own!"

***

Sol Invictus scowled as he heard those words yelled. These humans were fools, fools who underestimated the faith and bravery of the Converted. The stink of humanity was a stain only removed by righteousness and courage on the field, and the Converted would never be found wanting.

"Brother Invictus," one of the ponies in his retinue said, "he’s right. The blessed Idols cannot be used on our own brothers and sisters…"

Invictus threw the pony a glare, and he quieted. Invictus sighed, before returning his gaze to the melee that now swirled in the middle of the field.

"It is appointed to every servant of the One Goddess that they have an appointed time," he said mournfully. "We can but meet it well."

"You can’t mean…" the pony said, sounding horrified.

"This is war, and we are the blessed soldiers of the eternal Sun," Invictus said quietly. "Be assured brother, I would ask no sacrifice of my brothers and sisters that I will not give myself upon this field."

He focused his attention on the Idols.

"Blessed Idols!" he yelled. "Disregard safety!"

There was no outward change in the great edifices, but they did subtly shift their stance. Where before they had angled their gazes so that their flame bursts could not harm any ponies in their blaze, now they turned the full brunt of their attention on the Dead Men in combat around them, surrounded by ponies… and they unleashed the fires of hell.

***

Kraber turned to look when he heard what sounded like pony screams, and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of Solar Idols burning the close combatants, their own soldiers among them. He had always thought the Convies were bosbefok beyond belief, but he’d never thought they were that fokked up.

"Are they seriously burning their own troops?" Dupont asked with wide eyes.

"They’re fokked up kontgesigs with delusions of serving a goddess. They don't fokking care about themselves, long as we get hurt," Kraber replied harshly, turning his attention back to the building he was heading for. "Surprised they didn’t do this earlier."

He had grabbed a sniper rifle - what looked like an old Gewehr somebody must have retrieved from an arms museum somewhere - from one of the Dead Men who had been hit by a spell a while back. The old weapon was still serviceable - barely - but really, Kraber would have preferred something more modern, like an NTW-20 or a Winchester. Still - this war had left him with few options.

"Come on," he said, darting into the building. The stairs were cramped as hell for anyone human-sized, but he still managed to force his way up. He didn't care - I've been in worse kak, he told himself.

It was true. He had. And everytime, he'd come back.

He just hoped there’d be Dead Men left to rejoin by the time he’d shot the fokking banner-bearer.

***

Another gout shot through the ranks of fighting ponies and humans. The Undead narrowly dodged the gout, throwing his coat off as it started burning.

"Keep fighting!" he yelled, though now he knew his time was up. These things would send them all to meet their souls in the afterlife. He didn’t regret this end - but he regretted not making more of a difference. Even as he yelled, more gouts shot out, and the ranks of the Converted and the Dead Men alike broke as the flames tore through pony and human alike without distinction.

"The hell with this!" one Dead Man yelled, sounding frustrated and angry. Before anyone could stop him, he broke ranks and charged straight at one of the Idols, grabbing a grenade from his belt. Spears thrown at him missed by some miracle, and he managed to reach the thing, just as it opened it’s mouth to shoot another gout.

The Dead Man threw a grenade right at it. The grenade, by providence or design, landed right in the thing’s mouth.

A moment later, a gout of flame shot out.

There was a large explosion, and a flash of fire exploding outwards like a shockwave, covering ponies and Dead Men alike with eldritch fire that would not go out.

But the Idol was destroyed. The explosion had torn its head from its shoulders, and even as the assembled ponies and Dead Men watched, the thing slowly toppled from where it stood, collapsing to the ground.

There was a moment of absolute silence, and the Undead thought he could almost hear music playing, soft and gentle music that seemed to soothe his soul. Even as he watched the thing topple, he knew what he had to do.

"Brothers, sisters," he said to the Dead Men around him, his strident voice carrying in the silence, "fall back. The last one is mine!"

Without hesitation, the Dead fell back, and the Undead grabbed the water bottle from his belt, pouring it all over his body in the vain hope that it would make this any less painful.

Pain is of the flesh, and I am dead.

He dropped the empty canteen and tore off his mask and helmet. If he was to die, he would see his enemies die too with his own eyes. He grabbed the two grenades from his belt next. He grinned.

"The Dead are upon you!" he yelled at the Idol. "And we have purpose!"

Before any of the Militia, still stunned from the death of one of their Idols, could stop him, he charged straight at the last Idol. The thing almost seemed to be glaring at him.

"My might is as eternal as the Sun!" it said as he charged at it.

"Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Tyrant?!" the Undead bellowed in reply. "Even stars die!"

He leapt up at it, popped the pins of his grenades, and jammed them right into the thing’s eye sockets. His hands burned, and he could feel the flesh melting off of them even as his gloves incinerated, little flecks of material fusing with his skin and bone.

For a moment, all was silent.

And then his world went white.

I remember, he thought to himself as consciousness left him.

A family. A wife. A baby girl. A holiday.

The Barrier. Screaming.

Pain.

He could almost have smiled.

"We’ve been waiting," he thought he could hear a voice say, and the light welcomed him with open arms…

***

Kraber reached the window at the top of the building in time to see the Undead jump onto the last Solar Idol, and his mouth gaped for a moment in the wake of the massive explosion that followed.

"First and second commandments," he muttered, approvingly. "But, fokkin’ hell," he said quietly. "I knew he was bosbefok but still…"

He threw a salute in the direction of his late superior officer, before taking the Gewehr and looking through the scope for his target. His aim hovered over Invictus for a moment, but he respected the Undead enough to follow his last order.

"Sayonara, draadtrekker!" he said as he aimed at the banner bearer and squeezed the trigger.

***

Sol Invictus was already shocked at the fall of the Idols - their blessed visages should have been invincible against the paltry forces of humanity. Nonetheless, he was still confident. He was Sol Invictus, and Her blessings were in more than mere metal and fire.

"Brothers and sisters!" he yelled. "Prepare to char -!"

He was interrupted by a wet splat sound from behind him and the feeling of something wet splashing onto his back. He turned slowly, to see the slowly collapsing form of his banner bearer, most his skull missing, the banner of Invictus falling forwards, splattered with blood and brains. Scowling, Invictus grabbed the banner in his own telekinetic grip.

"Enough of this," he said. "Brothers and sisters, prepare to char -!"

He was interrupted again, this time by a loud horn-call. His eyes widened as he saw the force approaching down the street, coming up behind the battered Dead Men. A banner fluttered in the wind, the symbol of the Compass Rose and the Moon strong and proud above ranks of armoured, stern-looking ponies.

The Night Guard had come. Emboldened, the Dead Men unfurled their own banner, the flayed skull above the Earth. Sol Invictus’ eyes widened at that, and he felt an unfamiliar feeling in his gut.

Fear.

He had felt it only once before - the day his old faith had failed him and he had taken the potion. He scowled. He would not fail again, his faith was absolute and his goddess was divine!

"Servants of Astra Solamina!" he screamed, fury in his tone. "Charge!"

***

Canterlot Palace.

Parry, parry, block, push, spell, counter spell, slash, hack, parry, block...

It had become a dance, a rhythm, the two of them in the air, lashing out and blocking each other's strikes. Solamina’s glaive span like a thing of water or wind, fluid and impossible to see, but no matter where it moved Excalibur would follow, the great sword faster than a blade that size had any right to be. Parry, block, riposte, and again, as they cycle continued over and over and over…

The Avatar of Albion pushed himself. He could feel the slow weakening of his body. In letting go, he had forfeited any self-preservation, and now he knew it was only a matter of time before the form he was in would expire from the magical forces now ravaging his body. Nonetheless, he kept fighting, as hard and as fast as he could.

He parried another great blow, before lashing out, imbuing Excalibur with enough force that Solamina’s parry was not enough to block it. She flew away from him, crashing into a building. For a moment, all was still. He breathed heavily, trying to regain a modicum of strength when his lungs were burning. He closed his eyes, and the pain receded as he applied a balm over his injuries. It was temporary, and indeed, the use of magic would end him quicker, but still it would hold him.

A spell impacted on his left pauldron, and he frowned. He glanced at the pauldron in question and the small, dissipating scorch mark there, and frowned in confusion. That had not been the Sun Tyrant. He looked down from where he was floating, to see a handful of Royal Guard staring back at him. Some of them were Unicorns, and they were firing spells up at him. He scowled. They were but pinpricks, but he could not leave them be.

"Get thee gone!" he said, raising a hand and firing a spell off at them, intended to frighten them away. To their credit, after taking cover they quickly resumed their position.

"Yes!" the voice of Solamina called, and the Avatar glanced up to see her laughing at him from nearby. "Attack this monster, my little ponies! Destroy him!"

Two of the Guardsponies were Pegasi, and at Solamina’s words they immediately took off and flew straight at the Avatar. He blocked their paltry spears as they charged, but they span around and charged again. He snarled and, with a thought, unleashed a wave of energy that vaporised them both. More spells flew at him, but he raised a hand and fired another spell, this time directly at them. The Unicorns vanished in an explosion of fire.

"Monster!" he heard a familiar yet strangely quiet voice yell. He looked over at Solamina, whose eyes were wide with horror. "They were no threat to you!"

What trickery is this? he thought to himself. He scowled and raised Excalibur to point at her.

"Do not pretend that you care for your subjects, Tyrant," he said aloud. "You’d have had them all die by my blade to buy yourself an instant longer to cling to your throne!"

"No!" Solamina yelled. "No! Never! I did everything I did for them, I…!"

Her voice faltered, and her expression slackened for a moment. And then she smiled.

"Oh well," she said, her voice regaining it’s unnatural timbre. "Never mind. I’m sure I can get more minions like that from somewhere. I converted five billion of your kind. I doubt I’ve run out yet."

The Avatar frowned, but there was more than rage in it. This was… unexpected. Could it be that the Darkness’ hold on the Tyrant was less than he thought it was - somehow weak enough that Celestia, or something like Celestia, could still manifest in this way?

And if that was the case… what could he do to exploit it?

Before he could ponder this question for more than an instant, a bolt of magic slammed into him. Growling, he forced it away, before spinning with the momentum and throwing his own bolts at her. She growled as she blocked the bolts, before she once more summoned her glaive to her side, pointing it directly at him with a glare of pure contempt.

"Sun Tyrant, don’t insult me," he said quietly. "I think I have proven by now that I am not some trifle to be played with."

"My name is Astra Solamina Maxima, insect!" the enraged Alicorn replied. "And against me, you are nothing."

"Can you do nothing but boast, Sun Tyrant?" the Avatar asked idly, spinning Excalibur in one hand.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh yes. I can do much, much more than boast, little man!"

She closed her eyes, and light seemed to bend around her like some kind of black hole. She became almost shrouded in darkness, like it was gathering all around her. The Avatar cursed, knowing what was sure to come next.

A bolt of what must have been energy lashed out, smashing into him and bearing him through a building, then another, then another. He landed in the fourth floor of a Canterlot skyscraper, coughing as dust flew all around him from the impact. The coughing turned into a fit, as he hacked and wheezed. He held his gauntleted hand up and coughed some more, until finally it was under control, and then he looked at the gauntleted hand, eyes widening in shock.

It was covered in bright red blood.

"Oh," he said simply, before shooting out of the building and floating high above it, raising Excalibur into a guard position as Solamina charged toward him, glaive at the ready. Though he showed no outward sign of dismay as he resumed the deadly dance with his opponent, he found himself feeling… shaken.

He was running out of time. If he didn’t kill Solamina soon… he wouldn’t be able to.

Author's Notes:

Well. That was fun.

Special thanks to Doctor Fluffy for Kraber and his support in writing him and having him around - He continues to prove why he's one of the better Spectrum characters. This version of Kraber makes a cameo in Fluffy's The Light Despondent: if you fancy seeing more of Kraber in action, I heartily recommend it.

Thanks as well go to RoyalPsycho and the Void for their ever-wonderful help (and not just on this story but in real life too - seriously though, thanks), and to you guys for continuing to support this story as it progresses.