“So tell me, when the dust falls and all is said n’ done, who would you bow your knee to? The solar tyrant, ignorant of what happens beyond her borders? A lunar princess, who makes love to the devil himself? Or will you raise for yourself? Ending the rule of the alicorns and creating our own empire, built on the backs of us all, not in servitude to a god-like being, but for ourselves?” - Steel Quill (Eric Longtooth), a few days after the fall of Brismane.

It had been many hard days of travel, but, after what had seemed like forever, Arcane had found the small port town of ‘Long-Reach.’ Though, calling it a town would only just fit, in total, it had only five buildings, with three of them being residences, one being a farmhouse, and the other being the dockyard office.

The buildings themselves where banged up and worn down, with panels loose and windows cracked. Maybe it was the aura of sadness, or the light fog covering the area, but it seemed like the few residents of the town didn’t care much about fixing the buildings around them, or even in building and expanding the town.

There where a few ponies around, along with a gryphon or two and a minotaur who seemed to be manning the docks. Which, in comparison to the rest of the town, the docks where in surprisingly good shape, looking like it was commonly used, but far from fallen into disrepair.

“This can only end well…” Arcane grumbled as he made his way into the town. “Why are we even here, Star?”

“The monster is looking for us. Not very well so far, but well enough.” Star explained, amusement in his eyes as he glanced at the townsfolk creating a wide berth around him. “We are to go where not even his rumoured Krakens can follow. All we need to do is escape his notice for a few more days at most.”

“Wait… Krakens? Aren’t they sea creatures?” The unicorn stallion questioned, liking this plan less and less. “Wouldn’t it be a really bad idea to go onto the ocean then?”

“Possibly. We trust our power enough to deal with one, if not two of the beasts.” The blue star-wolf purred as they made their way to the dockyard office. “In the end, we would only need to delay the demon-spawn for as long as it takes to get to where we are going.”

“And that would be?” Arcane deadpanned.

“The place we must go.” Star chuckled, “I will not tell, not yet at least, there are to many eyes already.”

With those final words, the wolf slipped through the door to the dockyard office, leaving Arcane to move to a fast gait to catch up. Once through the door, he took note of the general cleanliness that the office, surprisingly, had. The insides where… cozy. With only two doors inside, one currently behind him, and the other behind a long office desk that stretched from one wall to another, only stopping with a small swing-door at the righthoof end.

Aside from the desk, the room was furnished with a neat little bookshelf that occupied the lefthoof wall. The bookshelf was covered in a few old, yet well loved, books. there were a few general non-fiction books there, but the majority were about fishing and boat repair.

The floor was made of worn spruce tiles glued together with some old flakey tar and nails that stuck out for a few millimeters. The walls was made of a simmerly worn spruce logs and a few plywood cross braces, but all in all, it was at home in this worn down town.

At the aforementioned desk, a beefy minotaur was currently arguing with a small pink furred mare. The mare, along with her pink fur, also had a vibrant lime green mane and a slightly above average length horn. She, currently, was staring down the minotaur with oddly intimidating pink eyes punctuated with a few forceful uses of her hoof into the chest of the minotaur.

“I don’t care what the buck happened to the last ship! I payed for this three weeks in advance, at double the bucking price!” The mare screeched, forcefully jabbing the much larger minotaur in the chest a few times for added effect. “You will get me to the gryphon isles, you miserable insect!”

“Ah’m nout gowin’ missay. Ah’ down’t chare’ ‘bout yer bits.” The minotaur shot back, his accent thicker than his coat. “Tha’ las’ on’ tha’ ‘ent out, is fookin’ dead ya’ twhit!”

‘The mare doesn’t smell right.’ Hunter mentally growled, ‘This must be a trap. It has to be.’

‘‘Doesn’t smell right.’ She doesn’t even have a scent! All I can smell is the perfume...’ Andril murmured telepathically, ‘It’s… familiar, but I can’t put my paw on it…’

‘Don’t be rash, she isn’t one of the monsters.Even they have a scent about them.’ Star sighed, ‘We will be vigilant, but We can use this ‘mare’ for our ends.’

‘If you say so…’ Arcane joined in the sighing before summoning up his courage and moving forward to join the heated conversation.

‘The nerve of this… this… defective nymph!’ She ranged internally, ‘I’ll get off of this Queen damned island, if it’s the last thing I do! Wait… who is that?’

The mare was cut out of her musings as she caught sight of a pair walking up to her. One of them was a young unicorn stallion, slightly thinner than normal from what she presumed to be poverty, and the other… the other was something else entirely.

It was larger than a timberwolf, and almost as tall as the minotaur with her, it’s pelt was a blue starry mass marred occasionally by black holes or galaxies. It’s eyes gazed into hers with a steeled glint, older than her mother and possibly her mother before her, from the corners of them, a thin blue fog raised up into the air behind it, following the sides of it’s head like a seagull gliding over the waves. Inside it’s maw was a full set of long canine teeth, and, behind them, was another set of smaller, razor sharp teeth, almost hidden from view. As it moved the shine of pitch black scales occasionally parted the fur, showing that it’s transparency was only an illusion.

Around it was an air of authority and supremacy, tightly entwined with a pulsing aura of sheer power and magical might. The feeling of being meer seconds from being splattered across the walls or being banished to a far off celestial body was near crippling, as the mental pressure increased with each step towards her.

“By the First Mother…” The mare whispered fearfully, wanting nothing more than to scuttle off to a dark corner and hide from the… Deity before her.

“We wish to procure a ship, and a crew for it.” The Deity stated calmly, gazing at the minotaur as it’s sheer power ebbed into it’s words.

“Ah-Ahs Ah shaid ta’ tha’ lass ‘ere,” The minotaur began, before swallowing a lump in his throat and continuing. “Ah’rm not goin’ ohut. Ah ‘on’t chare ‘hoo ya’ are.”

‘You retarded dung beetle! Can you not feel its power!?’ The mare internally raged, snapping her eyes onto the suicidal dockmaster.

“We were not asking, half-breed. We shall leave this island, regardless of thine wishes.” The Deity replied with an icy tone, flashes of red riddling it’s starry hide. “We shall give thou one last chance. We require a ship, and a crew. Now.”

“A-Ah’ll ghet tha’ crew ready shire’.” The minotaur scampered off into the back room, attempting to avoid the Deity’s fury.

‘Leaving me alone wi-...’

“Thou have good survival instincts, young one.” The Deity observed, still looking forward, as the pony that came with it awkwardly shuffled his hooves. “Though, We would not recommend following through with them.”

Her throat dried faster than water in the badlands and she visually paled a few shades as the wolf-like Deity slowly turned to face her. ‘Get a grip! Panicking will do us no good here… We’ve just got to appeal to it’s ego, and we’ll survive… hopefully.’

“Now, to business. Thou art afraid, that much is clear, but in the end, thou need not worry for thine fate. Not at the moment at least.” The wolf monologued slowly, backing her further into a corner with each word. “Thou’ve intrigued Us, it is plain that this body is not thou own, and yet thine art not one of Jekyll’s spawn.”

“What. Are. You?” The wolf-god questioned, putting it’s great power behind the words as its body flashed from it’s calmer blue haze to an angry blood red.

“I-I’m nothing of i-importance your grace, I-I’m barely an insect to your righteous might.” The mare stammered, her eyes flicking to each corner of the room as she attempted to formulate a workable plan. ‘Queen damn it! Of course it can see through my disguise!’

“We care not for thine bootlicking. Tell us who thou art, or We will pry the information from thine skull.” The deity before her deadpanned, the mist rising from its eyes lashed out violently and its claws lengthening and becoming less translucent by the second. “We once ruled this land as a GOD! It would be a miniscule effort to invade the unguarded shanty thou call thine mind!”

“What? You weren’t kidding about the god thing?” The stallion from the back interrupted, causing both the mare, and the wolf to snap their heads over to look at him. “What?”

“Has thine race really been so naive to forget where it came from? To forget the terrors that once clawed at your door?” The wolf asked, his tone laced with steel. “Did they forget what made the timerwolves? What made the sun stop? What forced them to use their magic to keep the world moving?!”

“Don’t. We shouldn’t even be surprised by now.” He snapped as the stallion opened his mouth. “Regardless, We have more pressing matters. Now, this is thine final chance. Who art thou?”

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-Buck it. It’s him killing me now, or Jekyll later. May as well get this over with.’ With one last sigh of resignation, the mare was consumed by thick, sickly green fire. And yet, no cries of pain followed as the mare’s skin and fur was torn from her, no screams as her bones and muscles burnt and broke.

“Woah!” Arcane cried out in surprise, in complete contrast to the steely gaze of interest from the Archon. But, before the stallion could contemplate doing anything to save the strange mare, the fires died down. Leaving behind not a corpse, but an insectoid… pony?

The not-pony was slightly taller than Arcane, if only by a few centimeters, instead of fur, it was clad in a thick, black charapse of chitin. It’s horn was about the size of a real pony’s, and yet, inted of the normal, straight spiral, it was curved backwards slightly, thin and almost… rectangular, with hard lines and edges marred only by a multitude of holes that similarly covered it’s hair and legs. Speaking of, it’s mane and tail seemed to almost… cascade off of it’s body like a waterfall of pink hair. Around it’s barrel, a pink… weed strapped on a, also pink, cape… thing, to it’s back.

As it opened its eyes, it lowered them to just below Star’s muzzle. Downplaying what would’ve been amazingly striking pink eyes to a submissive wreak.

“What… are you?” Arcane murmured, half delighted at the prospect of researching a new species, half terrorfied at its existence.

“A changeling. A princess even.” Andril answered, taking the reins from Star and returning his form into a much more… neutral tone. “It has been many years since I have seen one of your kind, I was even beginning to forget your scent. Or, lack-thereof. I must say, the perfume did confuse me for a bit.”

“I’m Chitin, sole heir to the Throne of the Badlands, the last bastion of my kind.” The changeling replied, bowing deeply. “I wish no harm to you and yours. I wish only for an escape from this place.”

“Escape? What do you run fro-” Andril began, before he was interrupted by a blood curdling screech from behind them.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” The minotaur, now free of his previous accent charged forward, his arms dissolving into a pair of long, thick blades partially covered in a fleshy, pulsating mess of tendrils and muscles.

Along his spine, more barbs and blades began to mold into existence, turning the once normal minotaur into a monsterous horror from the depths of tartarus. A creature crafted and bred for the sole purpose of murdering anyone, and anything.

And yet…

As it gained speed, it didn’t topple Andril over as it impacted with him.

No, quite the opposite in fact, it came to a dead stop as the wolf did as wolf does.

What the wolf did, was in fact quite simple.

He ripped it’s fucking throat out.

‘Who dares interrupt us?! Star! I demand to teach this welp a lesson!’ Hunter blazed angrily in the corners of Andril’s mind. And, if he cared to listen, he would have heard a firm denial from Star. But, in the end, he didn’t.

Instead he was focused on this creature that had attacked him. He knew what it was, as one doesn’t simply ignore Jekyll’s Brood. But, that wasn’t what was so interesting, this one was different. It was almost… sloppy. Manic in it’s attacks, and not to mention, it tasted different. A little more like… an opal mixed into a coppery, fleshy, stew.

The stew wasn’t new, the last few tasted quite similar, but the opal? That was different. Very different. Maybe it was an experiment of Jekyll’s? Or maybe even one of the many things that can change with this race?

Regardless, this wasn’t going to be a fight.

This would be a slaughter.

Pulling his jaws back, taking a good mouthful of flesh with them, Andril took note of the flesh already reforming as he no longer maintained contact with the beast. Regardless, he quickly took advantage of the beast’s surprise to drop to the ground and swing his back legs around to swipe the monster off of its feet. Before it could react, Andril slammed his front left paw into its chest cavity.

With a dull squish, his front paw melted through the beast, and, with a substantial pause of energy, began to cook the monster alive. His magic forcing the cells of this creature to stop their rapid mutation and expansion, enabling them to be burnt like any other flesh.

‘Regardless, one doesn’t simply ‘stop’ Soulfire. As long as there is magic, it’ll keep burning.’ The Once-God idly noted, sparing a few seconds to regain a breath barely spent. ‘And with all this ambient magic? This town will be little more than a crater as it burns through the soil by the time I’m out of range for it to maintain any sense of order.’

Screams of agony filled the room as the “minotaur” attempted and failed to free itself of the Archon’s impressive weight. But, it didn’t matter. Regardless of who heard, all they would find is a pile of ash and maybe some, still burning, claws.

“Die, motherfucker!” Another battlecry sounded from behind him, followed shortly by the sting of the Virus Demon attempting to consume him.

‘Cute. Another sheep led to the slaughter.’

Leaving the first monster to burn, Andril struck out with his back paws, covering them in a powerful coat of his magic to burn away whatever they impacted.

“BOOM!”

More screams filled the air as the burning body of the monster was catapulted into the middle of the village. The few ponies that lived here bolted in a multitude of directions as another pair a monsters shedded any attempts of disguise and charged Andril.

One of them, smarter than most, formed some sort of biological hand crossbow and began firing upon him. In the end, it was just as effective as anything else as Andril’s hidden inner hide deflected the shots and blocked those that it didn’t.

The other creature formed a tower shield and attempted to provide cover for its ranged companion.

With a dark chuckle, Andril summoned forth a magic missile, powered with barely a fraction of his power, and sent it forth at the pair. Gazing with dark amusement as the missile penetrated the shield and detonated inside their more… fleshy bits.

With the remains of the creatures either dead, dying, or retreating, Andril turned his attention to the cowering changeling princess. “Now, as I was saying, what do you run from?”

“I-I-” The princess began before she had her turn of being interrupted.

“You fuckin’ dumbass…” The first monster rose from his position indented in the floor. As it rose the burning parts of it had, seemingly, decided to jump ship, leaving the monster only a little thinner than it was in the beginning. “You may have killed my brothers and sisters, but my blood will bring forth a disaster this world has never se-”

Before the monster could finished his moon-touched ramblings, Andril simply annihilated what was left of it with a great beam of Soulfire.

“I’m beginning to get tired of being interrupted.” Andril hissed, his eyes leaking barely a fraction of his power.

“It might have been a good idea to listen to him…” Arcane murmured, shuffling a bit further from the still burning ash. “It sounded at least a little important…”

“I doubt it. But, if it really is such a concern, I’m sure no one will miss this town.” Andril stated bluntly, gesturing to the Soulfire currently spreading and consuming anything left in the town. “It is quite a marvel of how much this spell can destroy.”

“I don’t know. That seems like a bit of overkill…” Arcane replied blankly, shrugging his shoulders.

With a grunt, Andril turned away from the stallion to once again inspect the changeling. “As you were saying?”

“A-ah, y-yes…” Chitin swallowed and gathered her courage, “I-I’m fleeing from my mother. She wants me to lead our species into a new golden age.”

“And you don’t agree?” The wolf inquired, gesturing the group to follow him.

“N-no, I despise them. Changelings are love-sucking monsters, and I want no part in anything involving them.” Chitin replied, her voice steeled with resolve.

“Hmmm…” Andril murmured, pondering his next words. “Do you not count yourself as one?”

“It’s… difficult. Chrysalis is a fool, she’ll lead us all to our deaths for her damned pride.” Chitin spat. “I refuse to go back. I won’t. I can’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” Andril shot back with a slight smirk. “If you despise even the thought of going back, then why do you still walk this world?”

“What the buck Andril?!” Arcane interjected, shocked. “What kind of question is that?!”

“An honest one. I remember a young Queen oh so similar to you, she didn’t last long and, for once, I had nothing to do with it.” Andril shrugged, bringing forth an illusion of a small changeling with bright red colour scheme. “It isn’t as rare as you think it to be, young pup.”

“Still! Seems like a bit of a jump to go from ‘not wanting to go home’, to ‘I want to kill myself’!” Arcane countered, “Seriously! What is up with you today?”

“What do you mean, pup?”

“First you suddenly decided to ignore any sense of not being seen and walk into a town where you’ll stand out like a sore hoof. Then you go and interrogate a bucking changeling, and if that wasn’t enough, you’re burning down the bucking village!” Arcane raged, throwing his forehooves above his head for dramatic effect. “What. Is. Going. On?!”

“It is none of your concern, pup.” Andril growled, his tone booking no argument. “We are going to leave this place. All of us. Now.”

With a quick teleport, the Once-God dumped the stallion and the changeling into a smallish ship not too far from him. Ignoring the quiet sounds of protest from the princess, he turned his attention back to the town.

It was tainted, he could feel it in the field of magic. A cancerous growth infecting and plaguing the very soil of this place, growing and festering.

It would be a simple act, to destroy it all. But, he wanted to send a message. Jekyll’s monsters attacked him and his. And now, they will get a taste of his fury. If only a small one.

Planting his paws into the cobblestones under him, the mist rising from his eyes lashed out, encircling and trapping anything left in the town. Lines upon lines of runes lost to time where crafted and engraved into the ground. It took a few minutes at most, and, when he finished, Andril shoved a sizable portion of his power into the runes.

‘VWAAA-BOOOOOOM!’

The air itself crackled with power as a great pillar of light rose into the sky. Incinerating anything in it’s way, up, or down. The dirt around it burnt and blacked, even cracking in some places as the spell burnt through the tectonic plates of this place.

With his spell ignited, Andril turned and slowly made his way to the ship. The spell would do its job. It would be a reminder to those who had forgotten.

A reminder of who he was.

Who they are.

“Be afraid ponies. Your God has returned.”

Rain.

Again.

Arcane was really starting to get tired of the rain, being it when he is trudging through it, or, like now, when he was sailing through it.

After Andril did… whatever he did, and created his current, quite literal, hornache, they had set sail. Powered by their resident god, they were sent hurling across the seas in pursuit of… something.

It was really strange, being told one was connected to an Old God. Even more so when the God was able to destroy the largest threat to ponykind with barely a thought.

Well… ‘threat’ was a bit loose. Judging by the papers left in the ship, which where thankfully warded against the rain, depending on who you asked, they can be evil monsters that destroy entire families, or benevolent demi-gods who help out where they can.

‘I mean, I could ask Star… he’d probably know.’ Arcane pondered, idley tapping the wooden floor of the ship. ‘Then again, he’s probably the most biased source…’

‘Is it even possible to be unbiased at this point?’ He continued, looking over at the newest addition to the ‘traveling party.’ ‘She’s shit-scared of them… I think. It would be nice if she talked more, it’s either single worded answers for me, or the ‘I’m-telling-you-the-truth-but-not-the-whole-truth’ for the Archon…’

‘Maybe they did something to her? I mean, Jekyll was pretty civil with me, but…’ He sighed, turning his attention back to the churning waves. ‘How do you tell the truth from the lies, when they can be literally anypony. Not even that, anything!’

“Hold on to something! We’re almost there!” Star cried from somewhere above the stallion. Prompting the changeling to grab onto the ship’s railing for dear life, something Arcane followed with a little less enthusiasm.

“Acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt!” Star cried out, pushing more and more power behind the ship.

Once the last words left his maw, the ocean erupted before them. A great stone gate, larger than even the Canterlot Castle, rose out of the water. It’s edges decorated with silver highlights and torches burning a sickly green fire. The inside of the gate seemed to be a large plate of bloody water, tinted with swirling patterns and toothy fish.

The sight caused Arcane to gaze up in awe, loosening his grip for a few moments before he remembered the Wolf’s words. Chitin on the other hoof, took it as a sign to tighten her deathgrip on the railings as her slitted pupils shrank into an almost closed state.

The wolf’s form fluctuated and twisted the closer they came to the gate. Arcane would even swear he saw all three of their personalities standing side-by-side for a few moments as the gate loomed over them.

Star had grinned a shit-eating grin as he gazed into the murky waters before them, Andril was indifferent, and Hunter… Hunter was cackling over the crashing waves like a madpony, his eyes pinpricks and opened wide, even as the water crashed into them and consumed the ship, Arcane didn’t even see him blink...

Traveling through the portal was a strange experience to say the least. They took enough time in the water to make him fear the possibility of drowning, and yet they were quick enough that he felt like a fool for being afraid. Even as he was certain something brushed against his leg, afterwards, he still found nothing to validate the feeling.

And yet, even as Arcane pondered this feeling, he felt his breath run from him as he raised his eyes to gaze upon the surroundings.

Around him could easily be described as a mass grave as hundreds of different shipwrecks loomed out of the near-black waters. Relics from ages long since past and not yet seen dotted the seafloor, fishing ships, Minotaurus Ironclads, Equestrian Airships even made their way into this grave.

But, most stunning of all would have to be the ruin taking center stage barely fifty meters away.

It’s hull was of rusted steel, it’s size easily dwarfing any of the other wreaks by a factor numbering in the hundreds, it’s sides had hundreds of cylinders pointed outwards. They seemed like more… refined cannons, much bigger as well. These ‘cannons’ could easily house a pony in it’s breech, and, judging by the amount of them, Arcane doubted there was anything Equestria could do to match it’s once grand firepower.

On it’s top deck, the stallion could faintly see a multitude of even larger cannons, some even reaching the size to allow them to fire off even the bulkiest of minotaurs. Near the base of its sides, there seemed to be some sorts of… connection ports, two on each side. If Arcane was to hazard a guess, they would’ve held some sort of outrigger, maybe even one each.

On top of it all, or in this case, in front of it all, instead of the standard figurehead of a mare or a battering ram, this ship seemed to have a multitude of blades sticking out a fair distance. Each of them much thicker than he was tall, even if he stood on his hind legs!

“Woah…” Arcane murmured dumbly, gazing at the ruin towering before him. “What could have made this thing?”

After a few moments of silence, broken only by the gentle rocking of the ship, the blue unicorn tore his eyes away from the ship to glance around for any signs of his companions.

Thankfully, after only a few seconds of scanning, he was able to find Chitin lying unconscious near the side of the ship. The Archon on the other hoof…

As high as the chances of the… ‘ling being wounded were, Arcane still found himself searching for the resident God instead of inspecting her. It was an idle curiosity to the stallion as he rose from his prone position on the deck, though, he noted, his search shouldn’t take too long.

The ship they had… ‘procured,’ wasn’t a large one. It was merely a fishing ship, with a single shared cabin, some deck space, a cargo hull, and a captain's wheel, there really wasn’t that many places Star could be.

“Who knows, he might’ve just woken up before me… he is a god after all…” Arcane muttered, opening a door to below deck with a quick flash of magic. “How the buck does that work anyway? I mean… everyone knows of Discord, and he’s a… god I guess, but I haven't heard of a starwolf before… all this…”

“Where did it all go?” The unicorn sighed sadly, scanning the room for any movement. “Everything was going just fine, and then it just… wasn’t any more. War’s on the horizon, shit’s on fire, the Princess doesn’t care, and then there’s… Jekyll.”

Unfortunately, there weren’t any answers for the young stallion, nor was there tail or hide of the supposed God. Even Arcane’s necklace hung lifeless and dull, void of the wolf’s magic. It was a strange feeling, before now, Arcane hadn’t really felt alone. There was always a… pressure, in the back of his mind. A warm feeling here, a gentle nudge there. He always felt like there was… something there for him. Be it physical, or not.

“Bleh, what is with it with ponies and being so sour whenever anything goes wrong?” A, slightly condescending, voice jolted him out of his brooding. With a startled spin on his hooves, Arcane was greeted with the sight of a seasick Chitin. Her pink highlights slightly dulled and a green haze over her muzzle didn’t help the insectoid look of her race... at all. That or the snark. But that just made her unpleasant in Arcane’s opinion. “Yes. I do exist. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Sorry… I was a bit distracted…” Arcane muttered in reply, shuffling his hooves a bit.

“Yes, yes. I’m sure you where. No racism here.” She shot back with a roll of her eyes. Before adding under her breath, "Damn carapace scaring ponies away..."

“What’s wrong with you anyway?” Arcane asked, confused at the apparent hostility. “You were friendly… ish, before now. What changed?”

“Let me see… I almost drowned. I got punted through reality. And the fucking God of Death stopped threatening me with bodily harm if I looked at him wrong!” The changeling counted off, forming magical tallies with each point, before continuing on with her train of sarcasm. “You’d be surprised what threats of death does to make one seem friendly!”

With a heavy sigh, the bug-princess turned tail and made her way out the door. “Whatever, I’m going to go find something to consume. Don’t die whilst I’m gone, you’d make a good backup.”

“Hey!”

“Bravo-Golf-Actual, this is Command. Come in Bravo-Golf-Actual. Over.”

“Confirmed Command. This is Bravo-Golf-Actual. Over.”

“We’ve detected a disturbance from the gate. Move to engage. Lethal force is permitted, although live capture is prefered. Over.”

“Confirmed. Moving to engage. Out.”

“Wait! It could be dangerous out here!” Arcane gasped, slowing catching up to the changeling princess. His hoofsteps echoing off the rusted hallways of the once-great ship. The insides of the ship fared no better than the outside, with sections of the floor rusted through, hallways collapsed, and dust covering everything.

The bug had came in here for something, that much he knew. And as much as he wanted to leave her to die, his survival skills were… subpar to say the least.

“What are you looking for anyway?!” Arcane continued, only catching glances at a pink tail that drifted through the maze-like hallways of the ship. “We should be finding land! Not looking through this Celestia-Forsaken ruin!”

“Be silent, pony! There is something here, I can sense it!” Chitin shot back, her normal voice replaced with a predatory tone better suited to her kind. Even though she was only taller by a few centimeters, Arcane struggled to keep pace with her stride.

Turning another corner in his pursuit, Arcane was greeted with an incredibly large room. With the ceiling being multiple stories up, the room stretching hundreds of meters back, and it being around a hundred and fifty meters wide. Across the sides of it, five metal gates laid closed, each being taller than a pair of minotaurs and twice as wide. The metal being in surprisingly good condition, even though the strips of black and yellow paint near the bases of the gates still flaking and fading.

Inside the room, there was very little. With only a few broken or rusting steel crates huddled around the walls, all avoiding the middle of the room. In the middle though, in the middle was a large metal… thing.

It looked like a minotaur on steroids, given form in a boxy metal shell. It’s posture seemed to be folded into itself, hugging it’s legs up to it’s chest. Across its shell, pipes and wires snaked through and around each other in no particular order, the only guiding force being the larger concentrations around the ‘head’ area.

Though, calling it a head would be a bit of a stretch. It looked like a rectangular box cast in a dark grey metal, at the front of it, a pair of dull, lifeless, red dots took centre stage. On the sides of the ‘head,’ a pair of smaller metal poles, barely as thick as Arcane’s horn, flanked the ‘head’ like a winged helmet.

On it’s left arm, a contraption similar to the hollow metal poles that decorated the sides of the ship replaced where one would expect a hand to be. The poles, eight in total, each only slightly thicker than the ones on the ‘minotaur's’ head, where arrayed in a vaguely circular shape each hollow and in good repair.

All in all, the contraption looked different to the state of disrepair of everything else, it’s shell untouched by rust or decay.

“What is this thing…” Arcane murmured, forgetting his previous chace, and moving forward to better inspect the device.

“I… do not know. It seems… off.” Chitin replied quietly, her predatory tone gone. “I could sense emotions from it ever since we got here. Usually we can’t sense them unless we are within close proximity, but this… machine, is different.”

“What do you mean?” Arcane questioned, not taking his eyes of the contraption for a second. “Is it alive?”

“It must. I cannot feel the emotions of the dead.” The changeling confirmed, taking a much more cautious approach to the machine, and instead circling it from a distance. “But, as powerful as the emotions are… I cannot tell what they are, only that they are there…”

Chitin, ninety degrees from where she started, let out a sigh. “I swear, pony. If you wake it up, and it wants to kill us, I will end you.”

Arcane rolled his eyes, deciding not to reply. But, as he got closer, he noticed a familiar symbol engraved into the ‘minotaur's’ chest. The same symbol he had on his necklace, only in a two dimensional form. A carving of an owl, with half its face replaced by the likeness of a wolf’s.

“... The fuck?” He asked, confused.

BOOM-Tizzzzz!

He whiped away from the metallic minotaur at the sound, and, once he locked eyes with Chitin’s position, he wished he hadn’t.

The snarky princess had been struck down, her chitin crackling with energy as her muscles fired off at random. Above her, clad in a concealing cloak, was a pony.

And that was all he could make out before the great boom filled his ears once again, and he was greeted with darkness once more.

“Targets subdued. A unicorn and a changeling princess. Unidentified hive.” The pony murmured out loud. “Secondary objective completed, Minotaur class riot control bot has been secured. Awaiting extraction. Over.”

“Confirmed. Primary and secondary objectives complete. Locking onto your P.P.L.B. now.” Another voice buzzed from a small metal clip-like earring. “Please stand by for reinforcement.”

“Affirmative. Awaiting further instructions, over.” With the pony’s last words, he reached into his cloak before placing a gunmetal-grey, hoof-thick cylinder onto the ground in front of him.

With a click, four struts extended from each ‘corner’ of the cylinder before they lifted it a few centimeters off the ground. Following it, a much louder ‘thud’ sounded as another small strut was launched into the metal of the ship’s interior.

After waiting a moment, the hooded pony let out a deep sigh. “Stupid fucking machines…”

Then with a swift kick, the metallic cylinder came to life. Lines across its surface illuminating with a pale blue light and indenting into the contraption. A low buzzing filled the air as the beacon fulfilled its purpose and brought additional assistance to its master.

Zzzz-Fwabang!

With a great flash of light, and a distinctive bang, six forms where teleported into the ship. Four of them, being almost identical to the minotaur-like machine in the middle of the room, whilst the other two were ponies clad in form fitting black armour. The armour was black cat-suits over lain with dark grey plasteel plates, and, although the original pony couldn’t see their faces through their full face-concealing helmets, he knew them. It was always them.

With another sigh, the original pony tapped a metallic object embedded just above his right eye, watching as a hologram was pulled forth and settled in the edge of his vision. Letters and numbers danced across it as the programs loaded and checked on the pony’s vitals.

//Starting boot cycle…
/…
/…
/Done.

//Logging in…
/User: Bravo-Golf-Actual
/Password: ********
//Welcome Administrator!

//Loading translation software
/…
/Done.

With a dreadfully delightful ‘bing!’ The original pony looked towards the others. “So. They sent you two… again.”

The pair only replied with a dull drone of their techo-babble. Alas, the original would still have to listen to them as his translation software converted the binary into something he would understand.

User ‘Magos’: “It is good to see you too, Bravo. How’s the eye treating you?”
User ‘Techseer’: {Sarcasm} “I do hope the Corp didn’t rough you up too bad, after all, all you did was let a suspect go.” {/Sarcasm}

“Yeah, it’s treating me fine. Who wouldn’t love having their boss be able to see everything you do.” The original, Bravo, replied sarcastically. “How about your legs? I can see you’ve replaced them. Like everything else.”

User ‘Magos’: {Sarcasm} “Thank you for that, by the way.” {/Sarcasm} “Turns out you were able to break them in seventeen different places.”
User ‘Techseer’: “Ruined the nerves too, though I know it is only a matter of time before I get you back for that.”

With a dark chuckle, Bravo moved back to the changeling he had incapacitated. ‘Shame. If I didn’t have this damned eye-cam, I could’ve earned a nice payout from her. Who wouldn’t want a mare that can be anything you want?’

“So, I assume you’ll be taking them in for questioning?” Bravo asked the pair, he already knew the answer. Procedure was always the same with these things.

User ‘Magos’: “Yes. Though for once, we won’t get to keep them. The Corps had something big come up, and they need some more soldiers.”
User ‘Techseer’: “Shame. I could’ve used a new play-thing.”

“Something big, huh?” Bravo replied, genuinely surprised. “Any idea what it was? They usually don’t give a shit what happens at the border.”

User ‘Magos’: “Even if we did know, we wouldn’t tell you.”
User ‘Techseer’: “It must have been big though. The whole city is in a tizzy, something is unsettling the fleshies in there.”

With a grunt and a roll of his eyes, Bravo turned back to his catch. It wasn’t too bad, all things considering. The pony would probably go to some rich pig who needed some menial labor done, whilst the changeling would ‘disappear’ into some brothel somewhere. That, or, if Magos was telling the truth, they’d be turned into cyborg soldiers with no will of their own. ‘Damn. A real shame.’

“Alright! Get em’ loaded!” Bravo shouted to the minotaur machines, spurring them into life. Although they were commonly used for riot control, they made great hauling bots. Just with the added bonus of extra firepower if they get attacked. ‘Too many sick fucks out there. I’d rather not have my organs sold to the highest bidder, thank you.’

Arcane awoke to a blinding pain from his… everything. Around him was darkness, darkness with no end. But in front of him, in front of him was a creature that terrorfied him.

It was vaguely pony-shaped, but beyond that, it was something entirely different. It’s fur was gone, replaced by steel and wires, it’s eyes held nothing behind them, just the red stare of a robotic nightmare. It’s mouth was gone, replaced by four metallic mantibles that, when closed, made it look like it had nothing there in the first place. When open… when open Arcane could see all the way down it’s throat, thousands of teeth layering all the way down. The teeth of a predator, all angled backwards like a snake.

With a quick glance of himself, Arcane notice that he was tied down. Shackles of a cold white metal and more metallic items held him in place, they didn’t go around his limbs, no, now he knew where the pain came from. Hooks and spikes through holes in his legs as they oozed crimson blood, smallish plastic pipes where feeding… something into him through these holes. Whatever it was, it seemed to make the sweet abyss of unconsciousness as far as it has ever been.

Through the mangled and tooth ridden throat of the not-pony, it whispered things that dripped a poison. A poison of promises. Promises of pain, promises of death.

He couldn’t make out what the thing said, his mind was fuzzy and dull from the pain. He couldn’t formulate anything in his mind, let alone his mouth.

The not-pony seemed displeased by this. It brought forth it’s foreleg, and Arcane watched as it opened up. Plates of steel moved and revealed a whole assortment of metallic things. Some with spikes, some still laiden with blood from whenever they where last used.

The not-pony made one of the instruments of pain- a barbed pole, only a few hooves long and lined with wires and blood -extend further than the rest. It slithered around his prone body, away from where Arcane could see him.

The pain was mind numbing, and yet Arcane was able to slowly formulate… something. Anything in his mind. Although all he could think of was the blinding pain or why it was him here, it was something. It was progress.

Progress what was annihilated with a small action by the not-pony. He could feel it, the barbed pole, it had split the back of his head and slowly inched forward. Each millimeter was mind shattering, each centimeter, torture. It was like the fears of waking up during an operation, seeing doctors operate on you whilst awake, just… all too real.

Crack!

The sound of his skull breaking… that was one Arcane never expected to hear. Although he was sure it wasn’t that loud, he could still hear it with perfect clarity. From the back of his head, he could feel the pole twisting and moving, each vibration causing immense pain.

It was changing, taking up more space, he was sure of it. The tears that stung his eyes and the scream that boomed across the darkness, it was all too real. It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. Nopony would do this to another, nopony would give up their flesh for chrome and steel.

And yet, and yet… he couldn’t wake up from this nightmare. This reality he wished wasn’t his own.

There was no princess of the night to save him as he was torn apart by the not-pony, there was no Wolf-God to save him from this existence. Nothing was coming for him, he could feel it in his heart, in the mind, and his soul.

With a quick jab, the metallic pole embedded itself into his brain. It was a strange feeling, he could feel what movement and coordination leave him as the pole damaged his cerebellum. He knew it couldn’t be possible, he couldn’t, shouldn’t, be able to feel the pole beyond his skull, and yet, he knew the feelings in his head. He could feel as tendrils extended from it and snaked through his brain, as they clamped onto parts of the frontal lobe, and they did… something.

Images from his life flashed before him, his childhood, Chitin, Star, his father, the pillar of light, the portal. Each at different times, and all flashing before him. The pain was excruciating, but it wasn’t what he was focused on.

With what little focus he had in this state, he felt something. Something he had felt few times in his life, but never to any real extent.

He felt…

Violated.

He knew with his heart, he knew what the not-pony was doing. He might not understand how, nor why, but he knew the not-pony was browsing Arcane’s life like a book. A living book that screamed and bled.

And, for the first time since it appeared, the slight tether at the back of his mind was gone. Cut off. He felt alone, more so than he had ever been. Alone, soaked in his own blood and being pulled apart by a monster. At one time, he would’ve fainted at the sight of all the blood, but now… now he couldn’t. He felt more awake than ever before.

Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was the sludge being pumped into him, maybe it was just a cruel twist of fate. It was beyond him now. He was broken, pulled apart and violated in ways he never thought possible. Maybe it would be the end for him. Maybe.

And maybe, just maybe…

That was what he wanted.

Doubt had taken root in his mind, doubt in his friends, doubt in himself, doubt that he could come back from this.

How could anyone? He might not be a normal pony, sure he should have died in more than one occasion, but this? This was something new. Something terrible.

And even if he came back from this… even if he somehow survived his monster… would it be worth it? Would he be the same pony he once was? Would anyone recognise him now? Or ever?

The pole disconnected from his brain, leaving his skull behind with another wave of pain. Another wave that joined the ones before it.

Oh it still hurt, it hurt to the point that we knows he should have died. It hurt as much as it could possibly do so. The tears still stung, and the screams still echoed. But it wasn’t the same to when it had begun. It frightened him how quickly he was becoming used to it, it scared him to think that this might be his existence. But even then, the emotions, the electric shocks and waves of pain, they became duller and duller. They were the same, all the same.

The same.

The same.

The not-pony had came back to his view, it’s metallic hide stained with blood as Arcane could swear it smiled at his pain. At his screams. At his tears.

Another set of tools came out of it’s back, and as they descended on his chest, Arcane felt it. A feeling of hopelessness. A feeling of dread. All these where expected, but the feeling… the feeling of anticipation. Of hope. That was a surprise.

Hope that this would be the end, hope that it was over. Hope that death was coming.

It was not pony-like.

Did it make him a bad pony? A monster?

For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care. For once, he cared not of what others would think. For once, he blocked out the voices and teachings of peace and harmony.

For once… he embraced the dark. The dark of suicide, of death, of pain.

The tools descended, the first being a saw that cut and broke through his fur, his skin, his bone. He could see his insides, his racing heart, is quivering lungs, everything.

More tools descended, removing his ribcage and exposing everything. Others took his organs from him, his stomach, his intestines, his liver. Grabbing them, and pulling them into the open plates of the not-pony. It was another strange feeling. He could feel his stomach churning, and yet, it was gone. He could feel the breath of the not-pony on his heart, he could feel the blood flowing from him, and being replaced by the sludge. He knew he should be dead. There was no way he could be alive. He should have bled out multiple times over now.

Should have...

Would have...

Regrets…

By Celestia did he have regrets. It was as sure as the pain that flooded him. As sure as his death should have been.

His brother, the one he left behind.

His mother, the one he abandoned.

His father, the one he hated.

Jekyll, the one he feared.

Star, Andril, Hunter…

How did he feel about them?

It was strange. It felt like he adored them, like they where the best thing that ever happened to him…

But did he?

Did he really?

As he laid there, being torn apart and harvested like cattle. As he lain there, screaming for death.

It was their fault.

Even if indirectly.

And yet…

And yet…

He couldn't hate them for that.

He just…

Couldn’t.

Not through his morals, not through his better side. No.

He just couldn’t hate them. He couldn’t no matter how much he should.

Heh.

Maybe he was the crazy one.

The not-pony pulled back, retracting it’s tools of pain. It spared only a quick glance to Arcane’s teary eyes, as if making sure he was still there. But the glance, the glace told more than Arcane ever expected, he wasn’t sure how, but he… felt the not-pony. Just not in the way he expected. It was like… a brush against its mind. It told him more in that brush than he learned from this land, a spark of crazed passion, a tinge of love marring it’s movements, be it for the craft or whatever else, and an underlying sense of… fear. Not remotely close to Arcane’s, but it was there. A fear of… something. And he wasn’t sure if that terrorfied him or filled him with hope, the knowledge that his monster was afraid of something more powerful than it.

But alas, the quick relief of pain was short lived, as more plates across the monster opened and more tools came forth.

These tools though…

These tools were different.

They were mainly claws, each holding other pieces of machinery, some had lights that blinked in an array of colours and hues, others were cold and quiet, seemingly disabled.

Each of them, though. Each of them had a place within him.

A clamp-like thing over his heart, a pair of vaguely lung-like things taking place behind his…

Other things went into new places, unviolated places. His legs, his flank, and the most concerning of all… a pair of scalpels, a needle and thread descended between his hind legs.

A quick snip, a light suction from a tube, and it was over. He always took it for granted, most do, but now… now he felt even more violated. Any fight he had left was gone. It’s gone. This monster took something that he could never get back. He’ll never have a family of his own blood, not now.

But it wasn’t over. No. It wouldn’t be enough for this monster, would it?

For once, Arcane felt something inside his heart. Something that wasn’t the machines and bullshit this monster gave him.

He felt anger before, he felt rage. But this… this was different. As a pony, life was precious, and as much as he could stand aside as another died. As much as he could do things in self-defence. But this, this was different. This was a fire that burned with cold flames, this was an effort he would put everything behind in a second.

And for once, Arcane didn’t just want to kill this thing. He would kill it, no matter the cost.

A wordless roar of defiance, echoing across the darkness. Louder than the screams, louder than the sobs of a broken stallion. This was the voice that brought forth revolution, the voice that causes nations to fall, to rise, to begin, to end.

This was the voice of revolution.

Brought forth rarely by the ponies, only heard a few times since the beginning of time itself.

Discord was overthrown from this.

Gods were brought low.

And the world...
The world changed for the better.

The world blurred as he lurched forward with strength he never knew he had, ripping his limbs from the hooks that restrained him; the pipes that kept him awake through this insanity.

The not-pony was surprised, but Arcane paid it no mind as he grabbed one of the multiple sharp tools and jammed it through the monster’s eye, blinding it.

It raised it’s tendrils to defend itself, but it mattered little, with a punch to the tool, he drove it further into the monster’s skull. He felt a bit of resistance, but it didn’t last long. It gave way, and something vital broke, causing the not-pony to go limp in his hooves.

That was it.

He did it.

The pain lessened, but didn’t fade entirely. But with it, the adrenaline and whatever magic he had ran off faded as well.

The feeling of being alive was truly something glorious, the feeling of the blood running from his body, the feeling of the sludge slowly draining from the gabing holes in his hooves… it was fucking wonderful.

And the darkness, the darkness that clawed at the edges of his vision, that was even better.

But the changeling, the changeling that cradled him in her arms, that cast spells to return the blood, to mend what was broken.

That was just puzzling.

Author's Notes:

AN:
Note for some of the topics discussed in this chapter: Suicide is never the answer, I don’t endorse it as such and I shall never do so. This is simply for the story.
If you are considering it, please seek help. It isn’t right for people to be in a situation where that is a valid way out, and there will always be someone out there willing to lend an ear.

Also, there will be darker moments from here on out. If you feel uncomfortable with this, turn back now.
The AN part of the AN:
Well. That got dark pretty quick. Umm… yeah. Thanks for sticking around to the end of Arc 1! If you keep reading, sweet! Thanks! If you don’t, what did I do wrong? ;A;
Anyway, onto the next chapter!

Weapons_X's EN: Ending not dark enough; 7/10