***

“In the words of the man Elliot's generation… come at me!”
The Avatar, The Avatar of Albion.

***

Command Post Majestic. 14:42

The Avatar ducked and dodged. His opponent was fast, as he had expected. She was more skilled, more cautious, than the False Alicorns he had fought before. No doubt, she was older, had had more time to become accustomed to her form. The circlet was a mark of rank, a rank achieved only after having proved herself.

The weapon she wielded was an elegant maul, both ends topped with spiked balls designed to pierce and crush at once. The weapon seemed to be wreathed in an aura of its own even as she used her magic to spin and block with it, and he found himself - for a moment - hard pressed to keep the weapon from making contact.

“You are the demon who has slain so many of my people?!” she bellowed, a confident grin on her face. “You’re pathetic!”

“No,” he replied simply. “I am merely patient.”

He blocked a particularly vicious blow, snarling slightly, before pushing backwards, forcing Lemartia to step back. He followed through with a heavy overhand blow that she was hard pressed to block, her face betraying the strain the attack was causing.

“I have killed many False Alicorns today,” he said quietly. “You do not have to join them.”

“I am a creature of duty, demon,” she hissed. “I do not expect a monster born of human sorcery to understand that.”

She threw a spell at him, the flash of light hitting him in the face. He staggered back, feeling his skin blister, but he was already healing. He grimaced at the pain, before looking up at Lemartia. She had taken to the skies, her eyes blazing. Her horn began glowing again, and a flash of magic bolted towards the Avatar. He held up a hand, and a shield of golden energy appeared, the blast impacting on it with a concussive explosion. He was knocked back, the shield dissipating. Another spell impacted right after it, throwing him backwards, masonry shattering all around him.

He landed heavily, grimacing. This was not, in fact, how he had anticipated this battle going. He blinked, however, when he saw that Lemartia’s blast had inadvertently caused him to land near another of the guns. The crew had apparently already fled (no doubt his landing had scared them off - he smirked at the thought). With a grunt of effort, he grabbed the weapon, before hefting and throwing it in the direction of the Alicorn in the sky. He didn’t stop to see if the weapon had struck home - most of the remaining cannons had been abandoned as well, but they still needed to be taken out of commission. Another spell impacted near him, and he growled, before looking up at the sky to see the livid Lemartia.

“You will not escape me with tricks, demon!” she bellowed.

He held out his sword, and a bolt of magic slammed into her, sending her flying out of the sky, where she landed heavily. He turned away from her without another word - only for a heavy impact to hit him in the back. He landed face first in the dirt, grimacing, before pushing himself back to his feet. She was standing in front of him, a cut along her cheek, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Did you think you could kill me as easily as that?” she hissed. “Mine is the determination of my Mistress!”

“Indeed,” he said blandly. He raised his sword into a guard stance. “I fear you may need to demonstrate again. I’m not dead yet.”

She snarled. “With pleasure. I will enjoy this.”

“Do not speak too soon, Falsehood,” the Avatar said, a small smile gracing his features. “If you think you can slay me, though, then by all means… come at me.”

***

Point Gamma. 14:55.

The Nightmare was not proving easy to kill. Luna could keep lashing out with spells, but she would dodge them, or else block them with the corrupt power her Nightmare form granted her. The creature’s own attacks were blunt instruments - spells that broke masonry, smashed the ground, blasted through shields and threw the three warriors around - but even blunt instruments could be dangerous in the right hooves, and this creature’s hooves were skilled indeed.

Luna could tell that her allies were flagging. Lyra Heartstrings was breathing heavily, bleeding from a score of small wounds. Ser Eric’s armour was scorched and blackened, and his sword was nicked and scuffed. As she watched, Heartstrings threw another spell at the Nightmare, only for the thing’s shield to deflect it back at her, forcing her to take cover. Before Heartstrings could move again, another spell lashed towards her, blasting masonry and sending rubble flying - and then there was no sign of the mint-green mare.

“Lyra!” Ser Eric called out. He dashed to where she had been, moving rubble.

Luna growled, turning her attention back towards Cherubael, who was chuckling.

“It seems I won't even need to bury the traitor - this corrupt city has done it for me,” she gloated.

Luna’s horn flashed, throwing a spell at the corrupted Alicorn, but she deflected it lazily.

“Come on!” the Nightmare called. “Do not tell me this is all you've got, the great Nightmare Moo-?!”

Luna let out a battlecry, her horn glowing as she sent another spell at the Nightmare. Before it hit the creature, however, she had suddenly disappeared, Luna’s spell harmlessly flying into a wall and smashing it apart, before the Nightmare suddenly reappeared - right in front of her.

“Hello,” the creature grinned. Her horn flared, and Luna was blasted backwards, smashing into the ground heavily. There was an audible crack, and she let out a yell of pain.

“Princess Luna!” Eric called out, moving to her side. He held up his sword as Cherubael landed near him, her blades spinning in anticipation.

“You're one of the demon’s little pet things, aren't you?” she hissed at Eric, advancing on him. “I can smell his power on you. He's made you one of his little vassals, hasn't he?”

“I am Ser Eric Smith,” Eric said evenly, shifting his stance slightly as she advanced. “I am honoured to be the first Knight of Albion. I am a servant of the Avatar. I will not allow you to claim this field.”

Cherubael kept grinning, before suddenly lashing out. Eric blocked one blade, but had to duck to avoid being decapitated by another. He brought a hand up and a flash of golden magic slammed into Cherubael, but she withstood it, grimacing as she stepped back, before bringing both her blades down in a brutal overhead strike that Eric barely blocked. He grimaced as the strength of the blow forced him to his knees.

“Your kind is tenacious,” Cherubael whispered sibilantly, a new note in her expression - almost thoughtful. “I have fought many battles for Her Glorious Majesty, and yet here I am, pushed to the limits, corrupted because of your pitiful, stunted ape-race.”

She suddenly span around, kicking Eric backwards. He skidded and rolled along the broken ground, letting out a grunt of pain.

“This war is breaking us all,” the Nightmare whispered. “Little Seraphia, far from where she was born. Dead now, buried, broken, replaced. I had thought ascending would make me a God, and bring me closer to Her perfection, but instead all it did was cast me deeper into hell.”

“Do you expect me to pity you?!” Eric snapped at her, getting to his feet and bringing his sword up.

“No, human,” she replied, and her wicked smile returned. “I expect you to beg.”

“Not happening,” Eric said, before he charged. He pushed his augmented body to the limit, the motors and servos of the Paladin armour groaning in protest as he swung his blade, slashing hither and thither. The Nightmare parried his blows casually, and he pushed harder, stabbing forward and then, when she parried the thrust, bringing his blade in an overhead arc. She blocked it casually, only for him to kick out, sending her stumbling back.

“Clever insect,” she congratulated.

Her horn glowed, and she sent a spell at him, but he rolled out of the way, before bringing his hand up, a flash of magic escaping and smashing into the Alicorn - who grunted and staggered, but frustratingly enough, neither moved nor died. Instead, her horn merely glowed again, and a shockwave of energy lashed out, blasting more masonry apart and throwing Eric backwards. He grunted in pain as he smashed into a wall, more servos whining in protest. He was fairly certain that, if he had still had his helmet, his HUD would have been telling him he should be dead.

Well, I was always stubborn, he thought grimly.

The Nightmare was scowling at him. “You certainly are persistent, but you will die here, human. You must know it, feel it in your aching muscles and your breaking weapons -”

She was cut off by a sudden splash of magic smacking into her shield, a shield she raised just in time. She stepped back, only for a second and then a third bolt of magic to smash into the shield, obliterating it in a flash of energy and then smashing into her and bearing her backwards into the crumbling remains of a building.

Princess Luna was scowling at the ruins. She was definitely injured - blood was leaking from a dozen small cuts, and now they did not seem to be healing - but she was grinning, as though she were filled with new enthusiasm.

“Ser Eric,” she called to him. “Find Lieutenant Heartstrings. Leave.”

Eric nodded. He could tell he was hardly going to be any more use here. He limped over to where he had seen Lyra, and to his relief saw a stirring mint-green form lying amongst the rubble. He picked her up with relative ease, before limping off in the direction of Point Alpha.

“So you send them off,” Cherubael said quietly to Luna. “Admirable loyalty, no doubt, but you realise that you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Luna snorted, bringing her sword up. “Shut up and fight, monster.”

“Fine,” Cherubael replied with a malicious grin. “I was getting bored anyway.”

And then she dashed forward.

***

Command Post Majestic. 15:07.

Steadfast narrowed his eyes as the Pegasi scout he had sent returned, looking breathless. The sounds of fighting from nearby had hardly been encouraging, and the old soldier had been torn between wanting the news to be good so they could advance and wanting it to be bad, so they could pull out.

“Well?” he asked.

“Sir,” the scout said, catching his breath. “The - the demon thing is fighting Chaplain Lemartia. Most of the guns have already been destroyed, but -”

Steadfast held up a hoof. “Point taken.”

He scowled, turning back to the formations of troops. Bad news, then. The troops he was left with were already shaken, not to mention tired and battered. They had been in this accursed city for too long, and now there was a demon fighting a False Alicorn (that was the term he was sticking to, newfangled religious doctrine be damned).

“Well?” Sunny Days asked. “What the buck are we supposed to do?”

Golden Lock looked from Sunny Days to Steadfast. “Surely we should stand and fight?”

“And do what? Die pointlessly?” Sunny Days snapped. “We’re done!”

“Quiet!” Steadfast snapped. “All of you, keep formation.”

He paused, trying to think what the best course of action was. What would old General Steelblood have done, back in the good old days when the worst thing the ponies of the Royal Guard had ever fought was Griffons?

What would he have done? Steadfast wondered. None of this seemed quite the old stallion’s style. He shook the thought aside.

“We’ve lost the guns, and we’ve not got the ponypower to take on the demon,” he finally decided. “There’s nothing more we can do. We have our assigned evac points - let’s use them.”

“Sir?” one of the other Guards said. “That’s -”

“You’ve been given an order!” snapped Golden Lock, to Steadfast’s surprise. “We do as ordered!”

Steadfast nodded to the young stallion, before looking to the rest of the group. “Alright - move out! Evac point! Spellcasters to the front of the formation, power up!”

Ponies quickly shuffled about as Unicorns moved to the front of the formation. Shields were generated and raised and the regiment marched away from the river. The air was filled with uncertainty and shame as the ponies realised they had failed.

***

The Avatar kicked out, sending another arcgun spinning away, dented and broken to crash onto the ground. As he pirouetted on the kick, he brought his blade up to block another of Lemartia’s strikes. She was persistent and skilled - her strikes were blunt and unfinessed, a side effect of her chosen weapon, but she made up for it with grace and speed in her movements, dodges and kicks and blocks that were too fast for him to dodge. As he stepped back, she kicked out again, sending him stumbling back, and she followed this with a spinning swing of her mace that he had to jump back to dodge.

He brought his blade up, blocking another strike, before pushing back and lashing out, nicking her cheek. She scowled, but simply pressed on again, forcing him back. As he blocked and dodge, he brought his blade around in an arc, a flash of energy leaping from it towards the last gun on the field, melting the thing into slag and burning wood.

With a yell of frustration, she threw a spell at him that slammed into his shoulder, sending him spinning. He landed heavily, but pushed himself off of the ground immediately, just in time to avoid her mace slamming into the ground where his head had been a moment before. He brought his blade down hard in an overhead strike and she blocked it, glaring at him.

“You cannot avoid your death forever,” she hissed.

“I do not need to,” he said grimly. “Your guns are broken, and your armies have retreated.”

It took her a minute to realise that he was right. She could not see any of the soldiers who had manned this position, and though there were some bodies, there were not nearly enough to account for the forces that had been stationed here. The guns, meanwhile, were in ruins - he had struck out at them where opportunities had presented themselves, destroying them one by one. Now, it was just the two of them.

“I will still kill you,” she promised, pushing him back. To her surprise, however, he held out a hand to stop her.

“Enough,” he said quietly. “Your forces are defeated on this field, Lemartia. You do not need to die too.”

She scoffed at that, bringing her weapon up in a guard again.

“You think I will run from you?” she asked, her accent sounding strained, not unlike an Appleoosan accent (at least, the Avatar thought it was Appleoosan).

“I think you will not throw your life away in vain,” the Avatar replied quietly. “I would hope that you would not throw your life away in vain.”

Lemartia narrowed her eyes. “This is a trick. You will try to slay me when my back is turned.”

“No trick, Alicorn,” the Avatar said quietly. “You and I are done. I have won, you have lost. Your death would be pointless now.”

She took a step back. “If I leave here now, it will be my personal pleasure to seek you out and slay you when next we meet in battle.”

“Indeed,” the Avatar said quietly. “I would expect nothing less.”

She snorted. “This is not the end, demon. You may triumph on this field for a day, but I have fought your power - and you are nothing compared to the power of my mistress. On the day she comes forth to slay you, you will be as dust in the wind before her.”

“Begone, Alicorn,” the Avatar growled, waving his hand in a dismissive notion. “Before I change my mind.”

In a flash of light, she had teleported away. The Avatar closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and looking around. The guns were silenced, and the enemy were routed.

With a soft exhale, the armour and cloak dissolved, and there was left only David Elliot, his body drenched in sweat. He brought a hand up to his nose, scowling at the red blood that covered the back of his palm.

“Well,” he said softly. “Shit.”

He began limping off in the direction of St Paul’s. There was a lot to do. His mind drifted back in the direction of Lemartia’s parting words.

“You will be as dust in the wind to her.”

He grimaced, wiping more blood from his nose and coughing slightly. The worst part was, she might have been right. Against young False Alicorns, with less experience, less practice in their new forms and less raw power, he had managed well, with help from Luna and his other allies. But even then, he had taken hits, had been knocked off guard. Against Lemartia, he had been harder pressed still.

What happens when I finally do meet Solamina?

***

Point Gamma. 15:35.

For Princess Luna, this duel had become almost like a rote repetition of movement, over and over again, each move countered perfectly by her opponent. She would swing, the Nightmare would block, she would thrust, her opponent would parry and riposte and Luna, in turn, would block, before throwing a spell at her foe that she, in turn, would block with a shield.

The Nightmare thrust forward and Luna parried, before riposting in turn, forcing her foe to step back. With a growl Cherubael threw a spell, then another spell, both impacting on Luna’s hastily erected shield. Luna closed her eyes, concentrating, and a massive shockwave emanated from her, blasting the Nightmare back.

“Come on,” Luna whispered, pushing forward and bringing her sword up. “Come on!”

She threw a concussive spell at her foe, though the Nightmare managed to deflect it, the powerful spell destroying another wall in this already obliterated street. Masonry showered them as Cherubael swung her cruel blades down, trying to surprise Luna, who hastily brought her blade up to block the blows. She threw another spell quickly, but Cherubael blocked that too.

“Is this it?” the Nightmare pondered aloud. “I’m almost disappointed.”

Her horn glowed, and a magical shockwave lashed out, blasting apart what little remained of the street surrounding the two. Luna’s shield evaporated, and she brought her sword up, blocking a thrust and parrying a hack, before stepping back as her enemy pressed her advantage.

With a cry, she blocked another blow, only for one of the Nightmare’s cruel blades to pierce her side.

“Ah!” she cried out, grimacing.

“YES!” Cherubael yelled, exultant. He brought her other blade up, above her head, in an arc designed to cut through Luna’s throat. Narrowing her eyes, Luna concentrated.

Her horn flared, suddenly sending her own shockwave out that forced the Nightmare off balance. Tearing the cruel blade from her side, Luna dropped it to the floor and advanced, her body wreathed in a dark blue aura of power as she pushed her body to its ultimate limits. She thrust forward, and her enemy parried, but this gave Luna the chance to spin and kick her in the face. The Nightmare stumbled, and Luna brought her blade back and stabbed forward, cutting through the Alicorn’s chestplate.

Cherubael’s eyes widened in shock. Her remaining blade dropped from her grip, and her jaw slackened.

“But…” she said quietly, her eyes widening further, “I… I am… Death…”

She slowly slumped to the floor, her wide eyes still staring up at Luna, a questioning gaze in them. Luna met them unflinching, and retracted her blade.

“Sleep well, Cherubael,” she said quietly.

She exhaled. The battle was done - she could see no more enemies, and the sounds of battle were dying off. She winced, her injuries catching up to her. She didn’t feel strong enough to use healing magic on them - she had used a great deal of power on her opponent.

A little pain is good for you, mother used to say, she remembered with a grim smile. Reminds you you’re alive.

Well, she felt alive right now. In pain, tired, and feeling a sense of nausea as she realised just how low this other Equestria had sunk - using Falsehood Alicorns, even Nightmares - but definitely, terribly alive.

Her heart sank as she looked up at the sky, where clouds of smoke polluted the already blue-tinted skyline. A horrible thought crossed her mind, that all of this had just been one battle. All of these abominations, weapons and soldiers and all of this death...

This is only the beginning.

***

Author's Notes:

Hey again, guys. Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, and apologies that it's again a shorter one, but hopefully we'll start to pick up in terms of update speed from here on in :-)

Cheers,

Jed.