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Fanfiction ► The ORG Intermission: Enmity [Completed - Editing in progress]]

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Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

have to point out that i love all these names you come up with

they fit the locations and things perfectly god i'm such a language-whore

also nice to have something a bit calmer after all the kerfuffles


Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

"mirage", "eternus ignis", "roma"

i'm talking about all the names

all of them


Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

well idfk who came up with that it's still there
and the rest are still your things w/eee

what do you expect me to be perfect i am not

i am not shut up leave me alone


When your Mask falls, what will you see.
Mar 19, 2009
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

I luv this

I really, really luv this

Don't ever stop doing this :3/ <3


galactic cancer
May 17, 2007
The Land of Sand and Prisms
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity


The following two days of Minerva’s flowering diplomatic career were filled with hopes and success. The first thing that Minerva did when she made it back to Roma was finding Master Lucem and telling her of her journey. She dodged every question regarding her sneaking around strange worlds with her overflowing amazement at what she had witnessed.

Lucem expressed curiosity, and was much more open to the idea of allying with Mirage than she would normally let on. Minerva expected this, though; Roma had never shown any interest in joining the war, so it was only a matter of time before Master Lucem wanted to take action.
Minerva knew that what she had to say would be enough to finally convince her to do something.

When Lucem agreed to seeing Ra’s Ka about an alliance, Minerva just smiled, trying to keep in her pride that the plan had worked. She actually had another intention which was one of her own agenda. Master Ra’s Ka had given her the idea that the more people fighting in the war, the better.

Minerva turned away from her Master to leave and tell Ra’s Ka the news as soon as possible, but Lucem stopped her. She told her that she had worked quite hard recently, and deserved a rest, and that she would send a few scouts to request the presence of the Miragean leader at Roma. Minerva thought it was smart to ask that Master Ra’s Ka come to them, what with his “desperate” ploys, but had no idea how Master Lucem would guide the scouts to a world she was sure her Master had not heard much about. She was told to leave before any of those thoughts could be phrased, and had trouble sleeping with the stress that things would not work out. What if Master Lucem messed everything up, or worse yet, what if Ra’s Ka had too high of demands and scared her off?

Much to her surprise, an intimidating fleet of Miragean ships had arrived early in the morning. Minerva stared up from the balcony of her room at a hovering, spherical battleship. It was so alien in design, with holographic rings of revolving around it, and entire portions being transparent. She could see pilots and soldiers walking around and working on the ship’s many decks, though wide glass bubbles.

There were a number of smaller ships; bigger than gliders, tiny compared to the unavoidably huge monstrosity. Obviously, it was the ship that Master Ra’s Ka had taken to show off his power and control of his people and their technology. The way that the Romans looked at Ra’s Ka and his men with awe said that it was working.

Minerva was just in time to see Ra’s Ka leave his guard before entering a private room with Lucem. Out of a mix of adrenaline and not wanting to miss out on any discussions, Minerva broke the crowd to approach the two. This gathered the attention of the guard and for the second time they were nearly at Minerva’s throat. Ra’s Ka called them off.

“If Master Lucem wishes to bring in an individual to assure her safety, that’s fine by me.”

Lucem ushered Minerva to her side, accepting the gesture. Ra’s Ka nodded welcomingly towards the girl, but then motioned back to his men.

“However, I’m sure our hosts wouldn’t want to be unfair. Come forward.”

A Miragean solider in slim armor emerged from the group. His helmet was removed, showing thin hair that stuck up at the top and hung down at the back. Covering his thin face was skin that was hauntingly pale, like that of a ghost, and looked as though it would feel like paper to the touch. His eyes glinted the expected blue of a Miragean, but on closer inspection they were mostly pink, with small specks of azure giving off a brilliant light Upon reaching the assembled three, he bowed his head.


Ra’s Ka smiled, and lifted his arm towards the doorway.

“Ladies first. Let us get this underway.”

The door closed behind them. The four of them were in an old conference room, probably built for the exact purposes it was being used for now, but likely had not seen much use prior. There was a long table with old maps and papers and pens scattered about. Multiple candles kept the place lit well, and for the amount of people outside, it was comfortably quiet.

“Where are my manners,” Ra’s Ka brought up, “I should have introduced my student here. This is Al’Shab Ka, my star pupil. He has shown some of the most skill and promise I have ever seen in my Mirage, and I like to keep him by my side.”

The boy bowed, again, this time towards Lucem and Minerva.

“Al’s. It’s an honor.”

Ra’s put a hand to his back, patted it, and sat at the long end of the table.

“Informal, confident, and polite. I couldn’t ask for better.”

While the two Masters conversed, interwoven by brief discussions of business, Minerva and Al’s were made to stand. As Minerva stole glances at the statuesque, spectral figure opposite her, she was thinking that Ra’s Ka had called him “informal” as some inside joke. He looked positively boring.

Minerva listened to what was being said, but the casual talk made her zone out now and then out of disinterest. What she did hear, however, was an exchange made by the Masters. Lucem explained that her true issue was the risk of loss and making bad relations with other schools. Ra’s Ka, however, made it clear to Lucem that with her joining the alliance (because, allegedly, there were “hundreds” of other worlds rallied under Mirage) she would decrease the odds of losing lives. Power in numbers; numbers which would take care of her, and guarantee protection.
Lucem acted like she was wavering, willing or not. Ra’s Ka told her that if the concern was feeling too small and weak compared to those having to protect her world, then they could simply lend some of their ever-growing pool of technology. He said some of their best work was in defensive measures. Ra’s Ka tapped his fingers on the table, looking up at the chandelier that gently swung up above (probably laughing on the inside that they still used such “crude” lighting) and said that he could arm Roma to the teeth with automatic defenses. Anything bad happens and boom,

Flattered by the offer, Lucem asked what else Roma could ever do for such a gift. Surely, she said, they could never pay in any way shape or form that meant enough to them. Ra’s Ka shrugged, and told her what he had been saying the entire meeting; all he wanted was their help in the war. Fresh soldiers. Her most powerful wielders. He said they were in a war where the strength of heart mattered most.

“And I think” He articulated, pointing past Lucem and to the wall against which Minerva leaned. “You won’t have to look far for that.”

The Masters discontinued their talking for a few minutes as Lucem was left to think. Minerva felt a bead of sweat, and knew it was all down to her Master to make the final decision. She fidgeted in place, not knowing until then how much she wanted the deal to go through.

Eventually she put her hand forward, and Ra’s Ka brought his up to shake it, sealing the deal and the alliance. They threw friendly words back and forth for a while before rising and bringing their bodyguards with. Lucem agreed to let Ra’s Ka and his men stay the night if they wished, if not to show hospitality, then to do anything she could to show thanks for the promised gifts.

They left the room after about two hours to a collection of students that had only seemed to grow. What were they waiting for, exactly? It was only negotiations, nothing to rave about. Ra’s Ka shook both of their hands, while Al’s shot approving expressions, giving the slightest raise of the corners of his lips and the most undetectable lowering of his chin in a farewell nod. Incredibly polite, sure, Minerva thought to herself. She rolled her eyes as soon as she was sure no one could see her.

She slept with triumphant soundness the second night home. When she woke up, Master Lucem and Ra’s Ka were gone, leaving only a handful of Miragean crafts. Al’s was nowhere to be found. Apparently the Masters had taken a number of students with them as well. No doubt for rigorous training; the speed at which they had left for preparation led Minerva to wonder if the same process had happened in Valhalla.

It would, in fact, explain everything quite well. It was unlikely that Master Odyn had teamed up with Mirage, due to the clash of light and dark, but there could just as well be some super-powerful alliance of wielders hailing from the Dark Realm.

Minerva decided that it would be best to ask around Valhalla. Gren had always been secretive about what went on at his home; she was sure he was sworn into some kind of silence, and that Master Odyn was probably keeping a lot from him in the first place, but she hoped that he could tell her a little more given the circumstances. Truthfully, she did not want her own home to end up dead and quiet like his had become.

She waved to the Miragean soldiers as she left, and took off.


Gren’s room was just as dark and musty as when Minerva had visited it a couple of days before. The concerning part was that back then it was night, and as she entered the room, coughing at a smoldering odor, it was the middle of the day.

The condition of the room was messier than she remembered. A low-hanging cloud of smoke billowed out of her face when she exhaled. Books lay open on the floor, with pages torn out and scribbled on. One of the armchairs in the middle of the room had its cushion split open; on the desk where his Keyblade had laid previously, a candle was burnt to almost nothing, and crumpled-up, blackened papers were scattered around it.

Minerva went to the debris and tried to open them, but they broke up on her hands. She wondered if he had been trying to hide something, or if it was part of a spell, or if he just has not noticed the fire. Shaking her head, she opened the curtains, letting light in and revealing the intoxicating smog.

She heard something shifting in one corner, where Gren’s workbench sat. He had been sitting at it the entire time, hunched over, sleeping or unconscious for some other reason; he blended in with the dark décor quite well. Minerva hurried to his side and helped him sit straight. He blinked lazily and put an arm around her neck for support, showing Minerva a gruesome display of cuts and mutilated skin up and down the limb. She cringed away from his hand, carefully holding the fragile-looking digits.

“What are you doing in here?” She asked, horrified and confused.

His breath rasped, and he started digging through the junk on the desk.

“The Wayfinder worked, didn’t it? I even felt it on mine…”

“Hey! No, listen- it did, but- Look at me! There’s something going on here, isn’t there?”

He shook his head, and pulled his own Wayfinder from the heap of scrap metal and print. It was black and a deep shade of green.

“The signal was so strong. What did you find…?” He looked more and more dazed.

“Don’t ignore me. What’s happening?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” His eyes flashed apprehension. Minerva was getting the impression that his tortured philosopher front was just a façade.

“I just walked through the front door, Gren. No one stopped me. I saw a couple of kids on my way up here but they just ran away.”

He broke eye contact with her. She leaned down, this time putting her arm around him.

“Do you know something you don’t want to tell me?”

Gren put his unscarred hand to his face, and sighed. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and ran that same hand through his hair as he removed it. A long breath preceded his confession.

“I just don’t think it’s going to end anytime soon. The stakes are so high, but people keep throwing themselves into the violence. And if it ever actually does end, there’s not gonna be anyone left.”

“What does that have to do with all this? You’re hurting yourself!”

“It’s research. It’s dark magic, you know how the stuff is; your Master loaded your head with that kind of slander, didn’t she?”

She scowled, knowing that what he said was true and not liking it. Minerva did not give the statement any recognition, and instead helped him walk over to one of the armchairs in the middle of the room. They looked softer than the desk. When she sat him in the chair, his entire body slumped down and sagged like he was going to fall asleep. Minerva sat on the chair’s arm and watched over him, making sure there were no wounds threatening to make him bleed to death. The combination of cuts and bruises were probably enough, though.

She was not sure if he had fallen asleep, but she did not wish to end their time together that day on such a negative tone. Minerva leaned her mouth over his ear, and spoke in a hushed tone to keep him calm.

“Look, if I can find something new to change the tide of the war, like, create some unbalance, it could finish earlier! The fighting would stop. It doesn’t’ matter who wins as long as this chaos ends. Things can’t get any worse.”

He was certainly awake, and rolled his head over to look at her in the eyes.

“Plan on doing that while you’re out hunting for more white-haired kids?”

“I do and I did.” She whispered.


She explained to him her visit to Mirage. She began with her realization that her Wayfinder was catching any signs of their energy source. With glee, she paraphrased her tour; the technology and the people, as well as the powers that they used. Minerva went on to show her the armor enhancement she was given, and finally retold the events of that morning.

“They’re so advanced, Gren. They’re all wielders of light and they can do so much, I couldn’t believe it. They’re recruiting, too. They want to have higher numbers and have stronger weapons and win the war that way. Ra’s Ka made it sounds like there’re legions of light wielders working under him. What if they’re the imbalance! I saw what they can do. They’ll end the war quickly.”

“They’re extremists, M.” He said, looking up at her with his heavy eyes.

“You know about them?”

“I’ve heard of them.” He explained. “It’s hard not to. When you learn about one side of the spectrum you figure out what threatens it. I know they’re powerful light magic users, and are decades ahead of anyone else out there.”

“That’s why they’ll win the war. That’s what matters!” She held his hand tightly, gripping it. “It’s the same reason you’re doing this to yourself. But you won’t have to anymore! There’s more people now, doing way more than you ever could.”

“Even if they do come out on top, who knows what they’ll do in that position?”

“Do we need to know?”

“I’d like to think so. It could pose harm to our futures.”

“This fighting is going to do more damage than they ever could.”

Gren was quiet after that response. Minerva thought she had caught him, but his expression showed doubt.

“When the war is over, we can figure things out.” She assured him. “Soon we’ll be old enough to move out and start our own academies. Imagine that.”

“We’re not even trained for that.” He leaned his head against the back of the chair. “From the story you told me, you’re barely getting accustomed to your real job.”

“So? The whole universe could be a whole different place tomorrow. Who are we to say what we can and can’t do?”

He was either exhausted from talking, or fed up with her arguing, and slumped down. Minerva squeezed into the seat next to him, and embraced him, hearing his breathing return to a non-alarming rate.

“If you think they can end this quickly, I’ll give this stuff a rest.”

“I really do.”

Gren grew silent again, and when Minerva noticed he had fallen asleep, she decided to stay, in case any movements would wake him up. Unbeknownst to her, the amount of hours he had put into his research were enough to keep him unconscious for more than a day.

Minerva woke up the next morning very groggily. She squirmed out of the armchair, not at all disturbing the sleeping Gren, and left him a note saying that she had left for her appointment.

She walked out to the front of the castle with a feeling of unease. While it did feel odd that it was the second time in about three days that she had spent the evening in Valhalla, it was also disturbing that nearly the entire world was deserted. No young students asking for her to spar with them and no Odyn shooing her away from Gren; it felt all wrong.

There was a familiar humming from the pocket in her cloak. A flash of blue light flicked in the corner of Minerva’s eye; she whipped around. A small group of Miragean gliders had taken off and were leaving the world. Had they been following her? Instinctively suspicious, Minerva found herself in the air within seconds, tailing the three small ships that zoomed through a portal to the Lanes Between.


Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity



galactic cancer
May 17, 2007
The Land of Sand and Prisms
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity


The process of seeing blue spaceships and tailing them for endless amounts of time was beginning to feel repetitive to Minerva, but seeing the Miragean ships on Valhalla struck her as too strong a concern. What exactly were they doing there? Spying on her? Maybe Ra’s Ka had sent protection, or perhaps scouts to look for potential dangers on a world that practiced so much dark magic.

The thought of that shook her. Not too long ago she had been telling Gren that Mirage was a decimator of an ally, and could easily tip the scales in the favor of the Light Realm. What if Valhalla was the next target on their list?

She looked behind her cautiously; Valhalla had faded to a dot, no different from the thousands of other visible stars and worlds and dazzling lights in the trans-universal void. Ahead, the squadron of Miragean gliders flew without noticing her presence. Considering their direction, they definitely were not headed back to Roma.

And it was that train of thought that brought her to a brand new series of stressors. When would she be going back to Roma, or at least the one she knew? Considering everyone who had disappeared the previous morning, it was likely her home would end up just like Valhalla; more than that, it was doubtless.

There was a blue sphere growing larger and larger as they approached. It was a world, massive and plain, with at least one hemisphere completely blue. At first, Minerva thought they were headed towards Mirage, but as they neared she realized that the expansive portion of the world was covered in flat sea. Amazed that so much water could be in one place, she was curious about the Mirageans’ motives for going there.

The ships dispersed, landing on a number of strange shapes Minerva could see were floating or standing on top of the water. Arriving closer, Minerva could see more ships, hundreds, assembled on runways. Some were designed just for landing and taking off, but it looked like the area was designated for more than an airbase.

A number of blue-colored platforms and towers stuck up from the shining water. The largest was an enormous ring-shaped platform. It floated lower than most of the constructs, but was acting as the center of the operation. A few soldiers and scientists were scurrying about, working at computers or modifying whatever machinations were keeping the ring functioning. Alone, it would look like a harmless outpost on a deserted world. Suspended above the platform was a much more incriminating device. A large cylindrical machine, humming loudly and letting off arcs of blue electricity, was raised horizontally and pointed perpendicularly at the water.

On one part of the ring, elevated above the rest of it, most of the Miragean workers were assembled around a single person. Minerva pushed her way through the crowds to find out who was in charge.

To her surprise, it was the white-haired apprentice whom she had met only recently.

“Al’s?” She asked, completely stunned to see the stoic man that looked of death in command of something. He looked up from a conversation with one of his underlings.

“Minerva.” He greeted, monotone. “Welcome aboard.”

Al’s told those around them to leave, allowing the two to have privacy on the main deck.

“Where are we?” Minerva questioned, still inspecting the landscape for any clue.

“We’re on the unsettled side of a world which Mirage has had its eyes set on for a long time now.” He looked up, eyeing the machine hanging diagonally from them.

“So, this is just a base or something? Is this where you usually stay?”

Al’s had to tilt his head down to speak with her directly; he was quite tall and that was more noticeable up close.

“Well, no. I’m here to supervise the commencement of a project these guys have been working on for some time now. It’s really something special. Maybe you’d like to stay and watch?”

She nodded, and looked up to acknowledge the machine with him.

“What are they going to do?”

A gust of wind howled, throwing Minerva’s clock over her mouth and tussling their hair. While Minerva’s fell in front of her eyes, Al’s’ moved like a wisp of smoke.

“You know how Master Ra’s told you about Mirage allying with all these other worlds, and the big deal he made about going to yours?”


Thunder rumbled miles away.

“Not everyone is so receptive. The Master has stationed us here as a threat. The whole base? It’s a superweapon.”

“What?” Minerva was taken back, not just because it was her idolized ally pushing such violence, but the idea that they would fight a potential ally. “What do you plan on doing to them?”

He pointed up at the cylinder, and at the bottom, from which a glass-like cone extended downward.

“It fires a concussive laser through the water, at the ocean floor, forcing tectonic tremors. Extreme ones; ones that should have effects exceeding those of any natural earthquake.”

Considering how dangerous and immensely powerful that sounded, Minerva found herself babbling on a little.

“But, why? Are they that bad? If they’re light too, what’s the use in hurting them?”

“Oh.” He said with a smirk, as if he had forgotten to mention something. “They’re an especially special case. The light wielders there, in all their wisdom, have decided to hoard an ancient and powerful magical source. I’m talking about light magic that deserves better protection- better utilizers. If it were to be tainted, or used in the wrong hands, it could spell chaos.”

“They won’t even share it?”

“I…wasn’t present for the negotiations. It was before my time, really. But Master Ra’s Ka has always made it clear that he wants the source in our hands, or buried under the sea.”

“Isn’t that kind of much?” Minerva asked, believing her question to represent a more moral opinion. “If it’s so ancient, it must be well-guarded and safe.”

“They would lead you to believe that, just as any other world dwelling in the Light Realm would have you think. They’re weak. We, though…” He lifted his hands, holding them out at his sides. Both lit up in bright blue fire, from which streams of flame uncoiled from his palms and spiraled around his body. “We’re superior. If we had their light source, it would give us another step over every other world and wielder alike.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and the fire fizzled away. When his eyes opened, Minerva saw the blue specs fade from intense blue back to pale and red.

“It is what Mirage stands for. I know you think it sounds selfish, I’m not ignorant. But we do it out of solidarity. Master Ra’s Ka formed more than an academy; he put together a population. We deserve so much because our people are whole, and we have an institution to protect.”

The horrifying notion of universal supremacy was slightly less horrifying after that last part. It was not as if it was some insane notion to work together and make progress for the best of the world as a whole. Other Keyblade academies teach the same ideas of togetherness and strength in numbers, but on a more general and vague level. The way Al’s made it sound Mirage had a motto of all for one, one for all. And for what Minerva had first previewed as just another academy, she came to realize that it was, in fact, a home to many. Not as if to say that Roma was not Minerva’s home, but she had not been born there or anything.

Mirage was not just a school. It was a world, built from the ground up, that aimed to keep going higher and higher because of a unified idea. That was why it was so powerful, and both intimidated and awed Minerva so much.

“I think I understand.”

“You’re a fast learner.” He said, locking eyes with hers. His gaze was strong, but it felt like he was looking past her despite his pupils being aimed right into hers. “That’s why you make a good ally.”

A siren sounded off from one of the towers, alerting everyone on the ring. All of the soldiers dropped what they were doing, and began to scramble, assembling themselves in lines along the edge of the ship. Al’s let go of the proud and smug expression on his face, which must have been stressful for him to keep up, and looked to the skies.

“Ah, this was inevitable. They’re getting dangerously close to the area, maybe hosting a little raid.” He swept his hand above him, signaling a number of the wielders to transform and mount their Keyblades, taking off in triangular formations. These were not the crafts that Minerva was so familiar with, but typical gliders.

“Will you join in the defense?” He asked her, inquiring her with eyes that began to flare up blue once more. They gained depth that was not there when he stared at her before.

“I…” She was not as convinced as she thought she was about the attack being for a good cause. Al’s’ flattery had touched her, though. “If…if it’s for Mirage, then I’ll help.”

His Keyblade appeared in his hand. It was a slender shape, much like Ra’s Ka’s, but white, with wispy, stringy pieces wrapped around the shaft. The prongs looked like a mix between angelic wings and flames.


They took to the skies. Minerva anxiously gripped the handles of her glider and looked to Al’s riding on his; it was a long, white hover board, with jets, spitting invisible heat, jutting out from either side on curved wings. Only they made up the “squad”, if it could even be called that. Al’s claimed it would be fairer that way.

Within minutes, a small dark cloud faded into existence not too far away, and it rapidly grew as it came closer. It was a swarm of battleships from the nation Mirage was at war with. Monstrous shapes made of stone were coming in at breakneck speed; the closest one that Minerva could see was shaped like a crab, and the smaller ones resembled varying fish. When the enemies noticed the base the cloud immediately dispersed, splitting up into their own formations and lines.

Lasers blasted from both sides; from the Keyblades of Mirageans and the mouths of the creatures on which the others flew. Al’s took off ahead of Minerva, prompting her to follow. He was headed for the largest of the ships; an enormous craft decorated with glowing runes and was most certainly modeled after some mutant lobster.

Al’s bent his knees, gaining speed as he brought his body closer to his board. A series of laser blasts shot from the tip of his board with high-pitched pings, taking down a few of the fish that came to guard the mother ship. Minerva attempted to copy him, taking the same route and charging an energy burst from the portion of the glider that curved over her head. A single shot rocketed from the glider and made contact with a survivor from Al’s initial barrage; the ship exploded and rained fiery, rocky debris onto the ocean.

Ahead of her, Al’s had made it over the top of the lobster, where the main crew took aim with handheld laser devices. Long spears assaulted him with suppressing fire as more of the fish started to gather overhead. Minerva almost knew that the stoic young man had no feelings of tension or fear, even though his face was covered.

He kicked his heel down on the end of his board and twisted back and forth, firing and downing more of the fighters in the air. Knowing that they would not fire on their own ship, Al’s proceeded to dive down at the deck and leapt off his glider. He was attacked by the soldiers with their spears, but Al’s dodged every shot that came close to him, deflecting them with magic when they were unavoidable. His expert blocks sent the projectiles right back at their senders. He did not even have his Keyblade with him as he took down his opponents.

Minerva swooped down and joined him, landing off to the side of the lobster’s deck with Keyblade in hand. She ran at the soldiers, easy targets; they wore little armor, and most of them had bare chests which were covered by nothing more than fancy cloth and dangling crystal necklaces. Minerva twirled hey Keyblade around and took a deep breath; it melted on and up her arm, morphing into a long, blocky shape. It was an even bigger version of the transformation she had showed off to Gren when they sparred, and this time it was isolated to a single arm. With spiked ridges and staggering momentum behind it, it would have much more devastating effects.

She thrust her huge fist forward, knocking the soldiers off of the ship and careening into the water. Not wanting to stop moving for fear that she would not be able to lift her weapon anymore, Minerva kept swinging, and when there were no more people for her to knock around, she brought it up, then crashing down. The crustacean’s shell cracked with a loud hiss and started to split apart. Panting, Minerva turned her Keyblade back to normal.

Al’s, Keyblade in hand, hurried to her side and helped her up. Both of them went to the control panel at the front of the ship, above its giant head. The language was impossible for them to read, but it was evident that there was some kind of countdown. To what, they had no clue.

“Can you control this?” She asked urgently.

“I don’t think I can.” Al’s mumbled, messing with the controls to no avail. “What is this thing counting down to-“

The monster on which they stood shook violently as the final letter or number blinked on and off incessantly. Underneath them, the lobster’s mouth opened, its maw directed towards the ring in the distance. Bluish-white light grew brighter and brighter, until a great beam ejected from deep in the creature’s gullet.

The line of focused energy sliced the air from its intensity and churned the waters that it sailed over. The beam cut into the gliders and fish-ships that battled in the air, mowing down countless numbers of both. At first, it seemed that the beam had missed its mark, and was only there to even the odds, but something behind Minerva and Al’s rumbled.

The broken spot on the ship’s back emanated white light like the laser was made out of. Whatever was going on, the power source in the lobster was unstable due to Minerva’s disturbing of the hull.

“Go. Go activate the weapon; I’ll try to hold this off.”

“But shouldn’t you-“

“We’re…” Al’s was already burying himself into the ship’s controls, trying to stop the attack. “We’re the only ones ranked highly enough to do it. And I’m the only one who can do this!” He pushed her away with an outstretched hand. “Get to the panel on top of the main deck and you’ll know what to do.”


She was cut short when the ship shook again, harder, and caused the beam to shift slightly to the right. It was coming dangerous close to the base.


Another tremor nearly pushed Minerva off, and she accelerated as fast as she could back to the base. Not many people were left; most were either fighting or dead or fled in the fear that their project was fated for destruction. She landed, and ran to the platform where she had spoken to Al’s when she arrived. Indeed, there was clearly a place to begin the weapon’s activation.

In the middle of the computer terminals was a tall, flat panel adorned with a keyhole. Minerva recognized it as one of the panels from Mirage, used to do the most mundane things such as opening doors. Was the simple device used to fire a deadly weapon, too? It had to be it, what else would something that important-looking be used for?

Minerva held up her Keyblade, and brought the tip to the image of a keyhole. She felt the deceptively flat-looking surface cave in and deepen as though it were made of gelatin.

And for an instant she stopped, fully realizing, now that she had time to think, that what she was about to do could spell the end for an entire civilization. Her conscious was tortuous, and she knew it would only continue to do that-

Something terrible screeched above her. Minerva saw that while she was debating with herself, the beam had swerved over to the base and was cutting into the edge of the ring. As it drove further into the side, it started to hit the supports for the weapon; she was running out of time to think. Minerva placed a hand on the panel to steady her, and knew that if she did nothing, she was going to be blamed for doing something against orders. Not taking action would mean Mirage being discontented with her- with Roma as a whole. She could not allow such a thing to happen.

She tried her best to keep that thought in mind as she pushed her Keyblade into the lock. There was no big release or explosion; nothing sudden. Something hummed under the platform, and then some lights lit up on the cylinder. The glass cone went up in blue light as well, swirling and spiraling like a drill made of fire. When the weapon finally fired, there was no explicit warning.

Everything in Minerva’s sight disappeared in a blinding flash. A semicircle of light expanded from the epicenter of the blast, engulfing everything and everyone in the area. When the light cleared, Minerva found herself thrown back again the railings that were once behind her. Her armor felt hot, and where she had once stood was a mess of melted equipment and platform that had been torn off. The water was now only rippling and churning slightly. Minerva stood, and looked at the state of the battle that had been raging; the alien ships had retreated, while Miragean gliders remained triumphantly in the skies.

She had to make sure Al’s was okay, and was ready to take to the air, but saw that the mother ship had vanished. Far behind it, a crashing and tumbling wall of water rushed away, gaining distance every second; soon, it was out of sight.

“It’s breathtaking.” A voice said behind her.

Minerva turned and was surprised to see Al’Shab Ka hovering on his board right off of the base. He was staring intently at what could be seen of the wave.

“Such speed and power. That is nature itself under our control.” He smiled, legitimately this time, and not with just smug self-gratitude. “And with it, Atlantis will sink.” Al’s lowered and came to her side.

“Good job. This would have been a colossal waste if it weren’t for your being here.”

“Th-thank you.” She stammered, still shaken by the event.

Al’s waved up to the gliders that patrolled the waters post-battle, hailing them in.

“You should join us for the ride back to Mirage. I’m sure there’s gonna be some congratulations for the victors, and you should get in on the spoils.”

“Oh, no.” She said, flattered. “I should be going back to Roma. I didn’t even mean to come out here in the first place, er,” that was right, she never did get to the bottom of those spies on Valhalla, “I mean, I hadn’t planned to stay so long. I meant to get back to Lucem or Ra’s Ka about something, anyway.”

Al’s just shrugged, back to being nonchalant.

“Until we meet again, then. Maybe on the battlefield.”

“Um, right.” She mounted her glider and took off. It was a strange notion that she very well may see him next in the middle of a fight. Minerva sighed in exasperation, knowing that she had to get used to the war stuff still.

It remained a new and scary reality to her; full of too much death and vile intentions. There were too many people with motives that required her to think harder than she would have liked.


Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

water place with crab and lobster stuff reminds me of something

and now i proceed to have a crush on al's because he is so sickly and monotone yes that makes sense


galactic cancer
May 17, 2007
The Land of Sand and Prisms
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity


Roma was lacking the hovering blue orb that had been parked outside the castle the last two days. The absence of its hum and glaring lights made the world feel eerily bleak and desolate. Minerva blinked as she looked up at the sun reflecting off of the castle; had it always been so not-blue around here?

The halls were empty, not a single person to be found. The whole building echoed with her footsteps, something which she had never heard before. The grounds out back, where the younger apprentices were almost always found sparring, were deserted as well. She checked every room that she would expect someone to be in, but found nothing. Despite the scene being so alien to her, there was the strangest aura of familiarity about it all.

A frightening realization hit her; she felt like she was on Valhalla.

The war had done it. It had come and ransacked her home in the night and stolen everything. The notion struck her right in the heart, and she felt dizzy out of fear. Were they all recruited? Had Mirage even assimilated the children to conform them to their standards? Did Master Lucem actually allow that? She was nowhere to be found either, and a Light Realm-abiding person like herself would never just leave the world.

Unless, of course, there was a guaranteed way to keep light with her. Minerva’s eyes widened as she recalled Ra’s Ka’s invention that kept his planet running.

It is the perfect trap! A society completely dominated and ruled by light, where darkness had no way of penetrating them. Literally. It is irresistible; powerful allies, superior training, and living in an untainted entity. Minerva must have been one of the only ones who felt uneasy about Mirage, because everyone had left to join them. Even if most of them did not, it would be all up Master Lucem, and she was already obviously smitten with the light-based technology. Everyone would follow her, and do what she said. Like moths to an azure flame.

After running laps to locate any survivor of the draft, Minerva lost her breath in the foyer, and finally sat down on the floor in defeat. Her thoughts raced, no longer of the general fear of war, but of the people involved. She knew now, without a doubt, that those that she lived with were being shipped out to fight.

Was this exactly what Gren had gone through? Had he been holding in this kind of anguish all this time? It was not as if his people had been taken in one fell swoop like the Mirage had done on Roma, but his environment had changed drastically. All of those dangerous experiments he had been doing were not just for the two of them, but to save anyone else from this fate of mass abduction.

He tried so hard, and she wanted him to stop- wanted him to stop so that they could leave the issue in the hands of the one causing the mess! Was the war even worth ending quickly if so many lives were going to be ruined or destroyed? The speed did not matter, safety did. She kept telling herself that over and over, but panic took her over; she knew that she had personally heralded in irreversible damage on her people.

“I just…need to find Mirage. Need to talk Lucem out of- no, no, no!”

That had no way of working. Maybe if she could talk to Odyn, since he was around the last time she checked.

“He’s a dark wielder, he would help me before anybody else-”

There was a loud, short explosion outside. Minerva jumped, falling onto her side, still clutching at herself. She scrambled up and ran for the door.

Out in the courtyard was a tall, thin plume of black smoke. Now very paranoid of attacks, Minerva rushed over with her Keyblade out. Inside of the smoggy crater was a glider which she faintly recognized. The memory was so distant in her mind because its pilot rarely left his world, and he was the last person she expected to see.

Gren was leaning on a machine that looked like a spiked chariot, shuddering with each breath, and looking injured. Minerva called his name to make sure he could respond and was no unconscious, and to her surprise he dismounted his ride with relative ease. Still, he did not look good; his armor was cracked and missing in some spots, and when he raised his visor his face looked even worse than before. He smelled strongly of burning hair or flesh, and must have been hurt under his suit.

“Gren!” She shouted, scared out of her mind. He was limping towards her, and then stopped to cough. A split lip bled down his chin.

“Th-they followed you, M-Minerva.” He rasped, and took another few steps. Minerva came up and held him by the shoulders, letting him lean without strain.

“What? Who-”

Oh, she already knew.

“No, what? That’s im-” It was anything but impossible. “What did they do to you? Why did you come here?”

His eyes were glassy, and they stared at the sky with paranoia, fearing pursuers. He took a few deep breaths.

“There wasn’t a lot they could do. They got to us a little too late.”

“What do you mean?” She followed his gaze, now afraid too, and began to lead him inside for protection.

“The Mirage. Guys are like vultures. Wanted to scavenge for every last dark wielder they could find.”

Minerva was filled with the dreaded guilt that it was all her fault.

“Who’s hurt? What did they do, is everyone who’s left alright?” There pretty much was no one left, making Minerva worry that a chunk of the Miragean army had descended upon just him.

“Hurt? I…I guess. They don’t wanna kill us. They want to fight us.”

“That’s not the same thing?”

He shook his head, and stopped Minerva when she tried to bring him up the courtyard steps.

“They wanted me most of all. Knew I was there before they even landed.”

She had led them straight to their target. Stupid, so incredibly stupid of her. But what did he ever do?

“Why did they go after you?”

“I had the darkest heart out of everyone.” He went from gazing at the sky to looking into her eyes, and Minerva had never noticed just how bright and yellow his were. “I was the only one they needed.”

“Needed for what? I’d think they’d want to kill you!”

“What, Ra’s Ka didn’t tell you? He just fed you all that light supremacy crap and leave it at that?”

Minerva looked off to the side, lost for a response. Both him and Al’s had done it, really. Gren shook his head, distraught.

“It’s the purpose of the war, Minerva. I wish I found it out sooner.”

“If I did, I’d have had out solution weeks ago. We could have brought an end to this, together.”

“What is it? What’s Mirage-”

Gren pushed away with force she did not expect, and walked away from the castle.

“Everyone! It’s what everyone’s trying to do! Mirage, Odyn, Lucem, and every other world you’ve been to.”

He was shouting, angrily. Minerva had never seen him show such a display of bad temperament, let alone any extreme emotion.

“What is it!” Minerva yelled back, frightened and impatient.

“To forge the ultimate connection of light and dark- to take the strongest of both sides and pit them against each other, not to find a victor, but to combine their powers.”

The explanation did not even sound close to the terrible things she expected.

“Combine? They’re fighting to work together?”

Gren smiled. It was an uncharacteristic, demented smile that embodied his following response.

“It’s so sick, isn’t it? They only way that anyone could cooperate is to incite a damn war.” The smiled transformed, letting out small gasps of laughter, steadily growing clearer and hysterical. Minerva cut him off before she had to hear more of the upsetting madness- and his story.

“I don’t believe it. I’ve seen too much bloodshed out there. There’s no way that there’s so many people dying over something like that. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Gren! All it would take is some agreement or a treaty or…something! Every world out there is killing each other when this could be settled by that? It’s crazy!”

“They’re fighting over a weapon, Minerva. No one wants to share that.”

“A what?”

“Yeah.” He summoned his Keyblade in his hand, making his glider disappear in the crater, stopping the smoke from rising. “It’s a super-powerful Keyblade, the X-Blade.” He waved his own weapon about. “You can only make it through fighting.”

Minerva remembered the insane woman she fought before Ra’s Ka found her. She was awfully excited about dueling her, and kept raving about “forging” something. The recollection showed on her face.

“Oh, recalling something from your adventures? Told you.”

“That…that was one example! You’re telling me that no one out there has thought about anything but going to war?”

“Well, if they did, they didn’t for long. Even Mirage, in all its ‘glory’, is scrambling for a final showdown.” He raised an eyebrow, poking fun at her for her praise of them the world. “The hatred and confusion between the Realms has and will continue to exist. The fascists outnumber the accepting. That’s not about to stop the violence.”

“But, I saw…I just won’t believe something like that. Gren! I’ve seen all these amazing wielders die, and do great things, and, and…” She pictured the glimpses of the aerial battle before she activated the laser on the ocean world. “Terrible, awful things! The excuse for all of it is just a weapon? Everyone here, too! Their lives are over. If they die, it’s because of me, I brought them here. Too many of them weren’t ready for something like this- I wasn’t!”

He stopped acting so ironically entertained to empathize with her conflicting emotions.

“Hey, you were right, letting the Mirage take the reins of the Light Realm. It was pretty smart.”

Minerva’s heart skipped a beat. If only he knew.

“They’re organized and they know what they’re doing.” He smiled uncomfortably again, not easily holding back his pent-up, explosive opinions. “They’re probably doing it too well! You want proof of that? Valhalla’s nearly burned to the ground.” He pointed to the sky with Hrunting, around the area where the Miragean ship once floated. “We both lost a lot of friends, but at least yours are in good hands.”

She was hurt by the last part. Minerva realized she was to blame for more than screwing up her own life and world.

“I’m sorry, Gren.” She croaked, starting to choke up.

“I’m not mad at you.” He said, calmly and very matter-of-factly. “Why would I be? You’re my best friend, and this whole ordeal showed me what we can do to put a stop to this all.”

Minerva felt hopeful hearing that. She thought he had given up trying to find an end to the war, and in fact she had herself, but if he had a solution, she wanted to help him however she could.

“Anything.” She said, speaking through a trembling throat.

“Good. Now, Minerva, the fighting exists in such huge quantities because the quality of the combatants is what counts.”

Minerva sniffed, and thought. “They have to be pure of heart, like you?”

Gren gave his warmest smile yet. “Exactly. It’s really hard to find people like that, though. Even when Masters think their apprentices are as pure as pure can be, they may be nowhere near close.”

“And you need a heart that’s pure darkness and one that’s pure light to make the X-Blade.”

“That’s right. But, see, it’s not just me that’s pure. I wasn’t the only one raised that way. Lucem’s a really good, a really dedicated Master, so when her greatest student shows potential, you know she’s gonna take advantage of it.”

If Minerva was right about where he was going with this then she was not so enthusiastic about where he was going to go next.

“From about the same age, we were both crafted to have pure hearts, just on different sides of the spectrum. That’s why Ra’s Ka likes you so much; that’s why our Wayfinders work so well! We’re little beacons visible across the universe.”

“Makes sense.” Minerva said.

“So there’s an ideal solution.”

Minerva almost fell over when it hit her, and it hit her hard and right away.

“N-no, Gren-”

“Fight me.”


“You said you would do anything. This is it.”

“I won’t fight you.”

“This is our best answer, Minerva! We can end the pointless fighting here and now. Worlds can stop throwing their best wielders at each other, stop wasting entire armies, stop destroying valuable lives, if we fight here and now.”

“What if something goes wrong? What if we’re not pure enough?” She pleaded. It was having no effect on him.

“We’ll join together and bring a glorious end to it all.”

Where had her friend gone? Minerva was more afraid than ever.

“I won’t-”

“I’m not letting you say no anymore.”

In all of his studying of dark magic, Gren had worked on his own little project. He discovered a spell that, while denying him of any light that may be left in his heart, would insure that things went his way. He brought Hrunting upwards, and Minerva feared he was threatening to impale himself on his own blade.

“Stay back. I’ll be fine.” The Keyblade came higher than his chest, finally resting with its tip aimed at his left eye; the length of his arm forcing him to use only one hand and hold it from an awkward angle.

He mumbled something to himself, an incantation of some kind, and his Keyblade glowed deep purple. Blobs of dark energies circled around him and the weapon, swirling and casting wicked shadows. Minerva, terrified, watched the energy settle at the tip of the blade, near which his eye was wide-open.

Gren did look fine, and unscathed. He looked better than ever after the use of that healing spell, too. Obviously he wanted them both in their best condition.

His left eye was now different; his yellow iris was glowing fluorescently, and the pupil had changed shape. It was long a thin, like that of a feline, but was shaped like a keyhole. Gren blinked a few times before concluding that he felt fantastic, and looked towards his dear friend. With his Keyblade held tightly and directed at her, he gestured for her to accept his invitation.

“Minerva, let’s end this.”


When your Mask falls, what will you see.
Mar 19, 2009
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

This is Beautiful TUT, absolutely and sadly beautiful <3.

Hnnnghhhhh...Too Epic for words!!


Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

let's go the tragic route yes sure why not that's all you can ever do

grrr <3


galactic cancer
May 17, 2007
The Land of Sand and Prisms
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity


“You can’t make me.”

“I don’t have to. You’ll want to.”

Gren brought a foot forward, positioning himself as if he were reading to lunge. Minerva stood her ground, but made sure not to wield her blade. She had to be defensive and not fight back, for he surely would not attack her unarmed. By the logic he had presented, it would be pointless to.

“M, you have to. This is our way out. This is the universe’s way out.”

Running. Running would work. That was her way out. The moment the idea crossed her mind, though, Gren dashed, and grabbed her by her armored left arm.


She winced, and yanked it away, turning entirely around. Anxious to find a safe place that he could not reach her, she ran to the castle, hoping there was some solution to her problems in her home.

“We’re doing this outside, Minerva!” Gren shouted. Behind her, Minerva heard his armor shift as he pointed his Keyblade at the large front doors. A bolt of dark magic soared at the entrance, crumpling it and twisting its hinges and locks.

“Less collateral damage.”

Minerva huffed, and faced him once more. He was walking, slowly and ominously, towards her. It was as if he knew they had all the time in the world; that he knew she was not going to escape. Yet there was no contempt or presumption in his face. He looked eerily calm, maybe even concerned, but it was for reasons that did not revolve around Minerva’s safety. His now glowing eyes frightened her. The malformed pupil that she was not used to put her off more than anything.

Against her better judgment, Minerva brought her Keyblade into her grasp. Gren stopped in place, surprised. He blinked, and immediately gritted his teeth.

“Flying won’t work-“

The words came out before Minerva willed her glider to form. She whipped her leg over one side and lifted herself onto its seat. Again, armor clinked from outside of her field of vision, and Gren sent out his whip-form Keyblade. The barbed chains slung around her ankle, and Gren pulled hard to keep her on the ground. The armor on her calf made a horrid screech from the scratching, and Minerva had to steady her glider so that she would not be forcefully dismounted.

Quickly, she allowed herself to be pulled, and aimed the front of the glider at Gren. A quick blast from its weapon, she figured, would be enough to catch him off guard. A ball of light appeared and grew on the front of the glider, near the handle bars, and launched off.

But Gren had moved out of the way before it came close. Minerva growled to herself and charged up another blast. Five volatile spheres missed him by only inches. Gren was strafing, predicting her moves with inhuman ability, enough so that it made Minerva uneasy about where she was going to hit and how hard.

“Stay down!” He yelled. He dug his feet into the ground and twisted, pulling with all his might. Losing control, Minerva rapidly unloaded more magical blasts, too many for Gren to dodge at once. A multitude of small explosions shook the ground and deafened them both. She lost vision as dirt and dust were kicked up. Diving off of her glider, Minerva stuck a landing best as she could while blind, and felt her Keyblade return to her hand.

The smoke cleared. Minerva was standing on her own two feet, but her ankle was still chained down. He was not going to let her go. Where would she escape to, anyway? Maybe she did need to fight. Fighting to disable him was her prime option, assuming that alone did not prompt the forging of the X-Blade. She was trapped, but running out of options. Minerva had to see how far she could take a duel between them. She entered a fighting stance and held her Keyblade at the ready, staring down her friend. Gren reeled in his blade and returned it to normal.

Instinctively, they went for each other at the same time. Minerva felt like she had made the first move when she swung at his stomach, but the force with which he brought his blade up to defend him made it feel like she was suffering the attack. She pulled back, swung, and struck his weapon again and again, each time feeling like she was doing nothing.

There was an awful, grinding sensation running through her arms. She felt slow and weak and defenseless; like a puppet doing exactly what she was supposed to do. And, as another attack was turned on her, she realized that it was not just because she was doing what Gren wanted. There was something more.

Minerva, done with the preliminary trading of blows, was ready to give Gren what they had been hyping up; a true match of skill. She would let her Keyblade combine with her arm, as usual, in the form of a blade or a hammer or something else that would knock him back or make him run. Indeed, when Minerva drew her blade back, feigning another swing, she let the weapon turn elastic, melding and wrapping down wrist-

Gren’s hand lashed out and took hold of her arm before the transformation had neared completion. She was stuck with a half-completed blunt weapon hanging off of her fist.

“Mine’s better.” He whispered.

“Wha-?” She looked at the hand that had been holding Hrunting, and saw that his entire right arm was now gilded in black and green armor, with a dangerous-looking claw shaped like the head of some vicious reptile. When had he done that? She heard a cocky chuckle come from his throat; Minerva met his eyes, scowling at first, but then switching to shock. He was not wearing a single hint of exhaustion. In fact, while he did not look to be smiling, he had a disturbing look of amusement on his face.

“Gren-“ She began, but she was at a loss for words. She was now legitimately scared more than ever.

He shifted his weight to haul his armament at her, being careful to throw it at her shoulder plate. Minerva slammed onto her side, breath flying out of her lungs. Gasping, she watched him step in front of her, then kneel to put a hand to the back of her neck, guiding her as she recovered to a half-sitting position. When they were face-to-face, he gave her time to catch her breath, and he pointed to his augmented eye.

“This.” He said, “This gives me an edge.”

Minerva felt like she was going to fall over. Gren put a hand to her arm to steady her before she even began to wobble.

“It lets me see what you’re going to do before you do it. Found it in some really old dark magic books, it’s called the Ragnarok Eye. Gives me little glimpses of the future.”

Hearing him explain, she felt an overwhelming anger over the fact that he would change something about his body for what he was doing.

“You look so different.” She rasped.

“I had to. I needed something to make sure I could get you to fight me.”

She shook her head and looked down in disbelief. Gren drew a sharp breath; his voice was more stressed and irritated, the first emotion he explicitly showed.

“It’s a safety measure! This way we won’t hurt each other. We can do this easy and simply and put an end to this all!

Gren stood. His hand, currently looking like the open maw of a serpent, sounded like it was hissing as a mass of purple fire built up inside of it. Gren raised his arm high above his head, leading a tall pillar of flames to plume up. The fire amassed above before shaping into a ring and falling to the ground around them. An impenetrable circular wall closed them in. Minerva felt dry, hot air enter her mouth, and saw little black flecks of ash rain in the violet glow.

He walked away from her, Keyblade back to its default design, and took his place at the opposite end of his arena. He was a mud-colored silhouette against the contrasting inferno behind him.

Minerva stayed where she was, a curled-up mess that felt her world falling apart. After another minute of not moving, she felt a cool, refreshing wave ripple through her body. She realized with horror that it was a healing spell, that Gren was going to keep doing this to her until he got his way. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that she was too defeated to move, she knew that the magic had restored her body to its prime condition. She stood, filled with energy, as though she had just been woken up from an invigorating nap with a splash of cold water.

Like a machine, she entered the duel once more. For the most part, she was fighting with bouts of rage at her unfair circumstances, all of which Gren blocked. He had to make sure she was truly fighting. Which was not to say he was not himself; Gren would occasionally fight back by slashing and forcing her to counter bursts of flames. He knew that she would never lay down her Keyblade by this point and do anything to put herself in harm’s way. He knew for certain that she wanted them to be together as much as he did. This was their chance at being safe and with one other forever.

Minerva had no idea what was driving her to fight by this point. He was using her; he was using her and she was falling for it like a pawn. Maybe there was some bit of hope she was clinging to that he would see why he was so wrong.

Just a little more, he mused, seeing a few unenthusiastic strikes coming for him in the next few seconds and preparing how to counter. This is it, he realized. We are almost there, I know we can do it, he hoped.

Just come on, she prayed, arms restored and sore for the third or fourth time. Where is it, she wondered. Come out, already, she begged.

There were bright flashes of black and white when their weapons hit, like the world went monochromatic for a fraction of a second. Minerva felt her chest doing backflips and all sorts of acrobatics, and it was not just because she was ready to break down. Gren noticed it as well, and smiled wide.


I knew it would work.

It’s over.

We saved everyone.


There was still some hope that remained.

Minerva, having zoned out for the most part, snapped back into focus when she saw that they were both locked in a single stance, pushing their weapons against each other. Her hands, both holding onto her Keyblade, were vibrating. The ground beneath her foot shook. Her vision was cloudy. In one, final expression of defiance from her acknowledged defeat; she pulled her blade backwards, breaking the bond. Green, half-stuck in their trance, looked absolutely furious.

“Minerva!” He roared. His eyes were searing yellow. The flames heightened and intensified with his anger.

He wanted her to go at him? He would have to see how hard it could really be.

She charged at him without her Keyblade, tossing it behind her. Gren was unsure what to do, and only braced for impact. For all he knew, the sheer physical contact that that point would be enough for the forge. Minerva collided, grunting, and threw a fist at the side of his head.

“Wait, what is that?” He asked, gasping. The vision he was busy with distracted him enough so that he took the punch. Minerva used his confusion at the thing she had not yet done to hit him again, making him stumble, and she successfully pinned him to the ground.

She pulled an item from the pocket of her cloak; the small armor augment that Ra’s Ka had given her days ago. Grabbing one of his shoulders to keep him still, she slammed the metal piece onto Gren’s chest plate. It hummed and beeped and flashed blue for a second before melding into the armor. Gren kicked out and knocked Minerva off; she rolled away. When she recovered, she saw a neon-blue “M” inscribed on him.

To think she would use the device to defend someone other than herself. To think that she would have to protect someone from herself. Gren looked at the small blue disc and tried to pull it off, but the augment had sealed itself on tight. He looked at the symbol and sneered.

“This is light magic. Mirage crap. Isn’t gonna have any effect on me as long as I have my darkness with me.” He claimed, patting his chest.

“Not to you.” Minerva mumbled. Reluctantly, she prepared to charge again. Gren sneered.

She barely had to make it close to him before the augment activated. From the “M” flew tendrils of blue lightning, branching out and spreading into the air and all finally finding their way to the girl. The electricity smacked into her like a truck, paralyzing her in place and shaking her body violently. A pained gasp came out of her, but she tried to hold back her reactions after that.

Gren stood, terrified, the white-hot lightning illuminating her writhing frame better than the surrounding fires. His fingers tried to pry the device from his armor, but it had assimilated itself into his suit completely. Sparks flew and twisted about his arm harmlessly, but continued on to arc off and back to Minerva.

All the while, she was taking agonizing steps towards him. Gren felt genuine concern. He backed up, but Minerva went on after him. She was beginning to groan and whimper in pain with increasing frequency.

“Minerva, stop!” He pleaded, with the first ounce of humanity in his voice that could be heard in a while.

Gren was backed against his own wall, watching as she inched closer and closer. He banged on the armor, panicking more than he ever had in his life. The lightning poured from him like gushing water, and was becoming stronger by the second. He was forced to look at her though squinting dilated eyes that showed him an individual at their breaking point. The magic came nowhere close to even tickling him; it was his own weapon and his own defense mechanism now. Yet, his heart beat raced as though he were being electrocuted as well.


She fell to her knees. She started crawling towards him.

“Wh- Don’t! Please!

Hopelessly looking down at her, his incredibly intelligent mind searched for an answer. Meanwhile, the sounds from her increased in volume, and were audible over the crackling of the destructive light. They terrified and nauseated him.

There was one answer he could think of. There was a very obvious one. But it would mean sacrificing so much-

He looked towards her; her skin was grossly scarred. Eyes barely open. She wailed in pain consistently now. Minerva’s advances resembled those of a squashed insect, and seeing her dignity dissipate like her life was too much. She may be the type to want them together, but he wanted her to be safe first.

He held up Hrunting. It was splattered with some of her blood in places; evidence of injuries he did not wish to inflict upon her but probably did when he was hypnotized by the battle. Soon it would have more than hers. The hilt was in both of his hands now. He turned it towards his chest, now shaking himself. His eyes kept darting over to Minerva, hoping that she would just stop being attacked or shake off the effects

When she screamed in the most intolerable way yet, his eyes squeezed shut. He murmured an apology, and struck himself with the blade. To pay her respect, he kept his mouth closed, taking the fatal pain as well as she was. The augment short circuited with both the damage to the armor and the wearer, immediately switching off. The arena was extinguished as its caster lost focus, and the blue light faded with the pulse it was attached to.

Minerva struggled to find air, her pulse jumping and body still convulsing. She rolled over, coughing and gagging and spitting out globs of blood. Her mind was working right away. Scrambling up, entirely aware now of what she had facilitated, she made it to Gren as his breaths still rattled.

“Gren!” She shouted, voice cracking. He held him by the shoulders and looked into his steadily closing eyes. He had collapsed, an arm wrapped around his profusely bleeding torso.

“Why’d I…do this…?” He asked out loud to himself. His normal eye met hers as the enchanted one rolled off in an unnatural direction.

“Y-You wanted what was best for us.” She assured him. His one-eyed gaze was skeptical and stupefied.

“And…this is what I came up with? Some plan that w-was.”

“Sh-shut up.” She hugged him as tight as possible without hurting him. “You did the right thing.”

“I crossed a line…”

“Just- Just, sh, okay? Don’t talk.” She had her cheek pressed against the side of his head, feeling his hair with every unsettled shaking over her head.

“There’s so much worse stuff in store, Minerva.”

“Don’t worry about that-”

“I can see it. I can see how bad… I see it’s up to you.”

Minerva moved back to meet his eyes. He looked so tired. She wished it was in the same context as when they fell asleep together a few nights ago.

“Stop Mirage. Do it for everyone…”

She held him as close as possible, letting him pass on in the arms he had realized he wanted, more than anything, to protect.

As she let go, she sensed what felt like another healing spell flow into her. A parting gift? Whatever had moved into her felt stronger, and it rooted itself firmly in her chest. Something heavy, but with a weight she could, no, wanted to bare.

There was little left to lose at this point. Minerva had negotiations to hold with Mirage; no, Master Ra’s Ka. She needed to uphold her diplomatic duty and make up for the wrong she had done, and all of the pain caused by her hand.


Banshee Queen
Jun 10, 2008
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

you are awful


galactic cancer
May 17, 2007
The Land of Sand and Prisms
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

It's been a while I feel shame.


Minerva referenced the Wayfinder, like a compass, with vigilance. Constantly, she checked the charm to see how brightly it glowed. The change that Gren had made to it to track down Mirage signatures would lead her to destination. However, the closest and brightest beacon of Eternus Ignis was not on the artificial planet, but a different world close by.

It was a world on which a tragedy had not yet occurred to give it a suitably ominous name, thereby robbing it of any name that would hide its mysterious nature. To title it as a “wasteland” or a “graveyard” of any sort would make little to no sense, unless an individual could see into the future, or had been to the future to when the world was so desolate.

Once, it has been dead, desolate place, with no life to call it home. Endless, dry desert was interrupted by tall, craggy mountains and jagged rocks and cliffs and deep fissures. There were frequent sandstorms that produced towering cyclones of blinding dust that blocked out the sun. It was an ideal battleground, or at least the insurmountable number of Keyblade wielders present seemed to think so.

Minerva arrived to see the world ravaged by fighting. Oceans of armored people blocked out miles of ground. Magic flashed across the surface like flashes of lightning in a storm. It was a battle of accumulated grudges from across the universe; the Keyblade war that Minerva had only heard stories of, and in which she feared her friends enlisting. The blood spilled would outnumber rivers and lakes if the world had any. What she could not tell from the violent scene below was that the bloodshed before her was not even half of the overall conflict. A number of other worlds were fated to be consumed by warfare.

Above the foot soldiers flew wielders on gliders. They swarmed and chased and shot at each other with mounted magical weapons. Explosions appeared to spontaneously blot out the sky with clouds of smoke. Even higher up drifted large airships and crafts firing upon each other. Enormous vessels were brought down with mixtures of artillery and the arcane, falling apart in mid-air and plummeting to the crevices below. Projectiles that missed their targets arced towards the ground, leaving gaping craters.

Smaller ships, still bigger than gliders, attempted to establish air superiority. Minerva recognized a Miragean ship, circular and dome-shaped, being surrounded by wielders. Moving too quickly for the dome, they found its weak spots and damage its engines, turning it into a comet headed for the surface, swirling with blue and the more conventional red flames. Wherever it crashed, there would be no survivors. The remnant of a ship would remain in place, a ruin half-buried in the dust, for centuries to come.

She watched the gliders that had worked together fly off in different direction, and take to battle with others. She was about to take off herself to continue her observation, when something flickered in the corner of her eye. Minerva gasped, and then yanked on the handles of her glider, barrel-rolling over to avoid a blast of dark magic. Steadying herself, she was subject to another barrage, and flew away for safety. No, she had no intention of joining such a disgusting fight, but as the rain of dark magic increased, its source remaining untraceable, she found herself gliding closer to the ground until she was on her feet. It was not the best idea she ever had for the sake of “safety”.

Almost immediately, Keyblades were being swung in her face. Minerva jumped back and her glider had transformed back and was in her hand. Wielders in armor of varying colors, most of them mixed with black, were waiting in line to have a go at the wielder with the obviously powerful and light-tapped heart. Minerva slashed and hacked her way through a crowd of opponents before she realized how badly she was leading on those that were closing in. Unleashing pure light magic and showing off her prowess with sword-fighting was going to get her killed. With no way of running without being caught again, she subtly switched to fending off her foes with lightning and ice spells. For the most part she was only trying to push away enemies, but more than one were slain in the process. She felt a sting of remorse whenever she saw an armored figure lying dormant.

When the last of the rush had been eliminated, she did not hesitate to turn and run. The airspace was becoming increasingly hostile, so perhaps if she could find an open area on foot, she could take off without danger. She spotted a rocky mesa, only sparsely populated by soldiers. A steep ledge led to its horizontal top.

Minerva ran, casting bolts of ice magic on those who tried to initiate combat with her. As she closed in on her destination, she watched wielders fall off the ledges of the mesa. On two or three occasions their descent was pursued by an especially bloodthirsty opponent. Minerva took her Keyblade in both hands, one on each side of the hilt, and tore in half; each part long and sickle-shaped. She pushed off the ground and sunk one of the sickles into the rock. Blood pounded in her ears. The mountain-climbing process was repeated until she flung herself over the edge. No one noticed her arrive; though the area seemed reserved for duelists whose fights had only brought them there by escalation.

It was then that Minerva noticed a trend. The “war” was so bizarre. It was hardly as chaotic as she had first observed, and instead reminded her of what Gren had told her. The war was not about killing everyone possible. It was hardly a matter of throwing armies at other armies and waiting to rout the enemy or destroy their morale or take out their leader. In fact, looking at the fighting, there were hardly any discernible sides at all. There were only individuals; hundreds upon thousands of individual Keyblade wielders fighting for a common cause.

Duels. It was duels she was seeing, not large-scale war. There was no point in having a fight that involved more than two people, because only two were needed to create the X-Blade. The number of fights, however, increased the odds of it happening tenfold.

In awe, Minerva scanned the air in curiosity; yes, the air battles consisted of pairs of gliders. Chases were acrobatic displays of wielders jumping at and grounding their opponents to get them to fight on foot, where they could properly forge the ultimate weapon. The atmosphere was bringing out the worst and most violent in everyone involved; frustration built up from light and dark supremacists trying to win the X-Blade for their “side” resorted to overly-violent means if events did not go in their favor. Minerva wondered if the bigger ships floating in the clouds were up to anything similar.

It was doubtful; they were all the same in origin. She could not remember if the skies had looked that way before, but now they were dominated by Miragean vessels. This alerted Minerva to the fact that there were no Mirage soldiers on the ground, only transports in the sky. Did they plan on landing a ship at some point, unloading their army all at once? It made her uneasy. The biggest Miragean cruiser visible loomed closer to the surface, nearly confirming her fears. On its bottom was a large circular orifice, at the center of which was a ball of blinding blue-white fire. Was it going to shoot?

Would Mirage really commit such a mass slaughter? It already happened once on Atlantis. But if Ra’s Ka really wanted to destroy all opposition, particularly dark wielders, he would wait until he had the X-Blade. If this was his way of unveiling something big, it would end up being a solution to finding the X-Blade before he wiped out the wielders he deemed weaker. The ship hummed louder and louder until the radiant clump of energy high above expanded and descended in a column straight down. She expected, against her previous logic, a violent explosion and a powerful, concussive wave. There was nothing.

The attention of the armies was caught by a hypnotizingly luminous, colossal figure standing where the light had been. The blotch of white shifted, and tremors shook the earth in response. Again it moved, and a second quaking made Minerva question her balance on the slanted precipice. She worked her way down, sliding down the slope, and continued forward, transfixed by the hulking mass coming in her direction. All the while the shaking continued in a steady pattern; it sounded distinctly like footsteps. Soon, the light cleared, as though it had cooled down after being heated to an impossibly high degree. The true form of the towering being was revealed.

A monstrous golem aimed its clawed hand at the crowd around it, vaporizing countless wielders and leveling the dirt. It was some artificial abomination, made of metal colored deep azure, and throbbing veins of neon blue lining its entire body. The terrorizing machine was hunched over, with wide, round shoulders and thick limbs to match. While its left hand had titanic fingers, the right was replaced by a crude replica of a Keyblade. It had jagged teeth running up and down the length, and it rested on the ground having to be dragged along sluggishly, which was as fast as it appeared its stumpy and heavy legs could handle. The weapon was reminiscent of a chainsaw. On its chest, Minerva noticed a stylized “M” that glowed with its magic-filled arteries.

The head was a spherical pod, its face consisting of only a circular glass window; a large X-shaped frame held it in place. The letter reflected on what must have been its mission. Humorously, a pair of ear-like strips of metal on the head mimicked those of an actual armor’s helmet. It was all that gave off the glow present on its landing. The stringy veins seemed to come from the neck before covering the rest of the body; undoubtedly something potent was up there, controlling it all or supplying it with power.

Minerva transformed her Keyblade and took to the skies once more, noting that she would have a lot less pressure on her than she did before. She felt as though she were responsible; she had no idea why or for what, but she knew she had to have some part in taking the golem down. Despite the indescribable obligation, it appeared that she was barely alone in that task

Like flies to honey, wielders who looked like insignificant specks raced and sought to take down the colossus, whether that meant destroying the machine or whatever was inside. The energy beam, too narrow and slow-moving to hit the numerous mobile targets, was set aside, and the golem lifted its massive blade. Its waist twisted, clicking and humming, as it prepared to strike. When it had wound itself far enough, the entire torso turned, bringing up the blade in an arc of enormous radius. Minerva saw gliders swatted like flies, their riders probably killed instantly from the force of the swing alone.

Minerva kept her distance, waiting for an opening to get close. While the shoulders were bulbous and solid, the joints between them and the limbs were openings to the inner machinery. Cables and cords flexed like muscles when the arms moved. If she could get close and sever a crucial part, it would critically disable the golem. It would only take a well-placed slice or detrimental spell, like fire or lightning. Circling from behind, she did her best to time her proximity to the weak point with the robot’s movements. When it went for another cleave, she would strike.

The variables were far too high in number, though. Five more gliders swooped from behind her in formation, either going the same route as Minerva or blindly rushing their common enemy. Regardless, their flashy entrance caught the golem’s attention before they could come close. When it turned, prepared to blow them out of the air, Minerva barrel rolled to avoid an attack.

She flew past the head as she did, getting a view through the glass pane. The source of its light was more discernible from her distance, and she saw that a human-shaped figure was to blame. A body that glowed blue and silver and white stood on a circular platform, contorted, with its arm reaching backward; the same way the golem was positioned. The machine was not acting on its own; a pilot controlled it from inside the head. It occurred to Minerva that it was a Mirage wielder, one who must have been exceptionally powerful. Her glider flew, creating more space between them as it stomped along, laying waste to those that opposed it. She pulled back and turned straight around, making another dive, this time for the face. Such a daring move would take precision timing.

Yes, there it was, the golem was distracted with another flock of gliders who would be hopelessly slaughtered. She sped up, lowering her head near the handles of her glider to accelerate as much as possible. Her throat bulged with a deep breath, and she readied her legs.

She leapt from her glider a second before it made contact with the head. Glass shattered, and a loud bang reverberated when it hit the back of the cockpit. The golem stumbled and began to lose balance as the pilot recoiled in confusion and surprise. Minerva’s momentum kept her in the air briefly; she had reached out and grabbed onto one of the jutting metal ears of the helmet. The force of her impact upon it made her thankful she was wearing something hard; she probably would have been cut in half if she hit the edge just right.

Wasting no time, one of her arms took a moment from clinging onto the ear and reached out at the skull under here. Her fingers curled, and she felt the presence of her Keyblade. Soon, a conical dent shot up from the top of the head. The thick plating strained to stay together, but Minerva’s Keyblade burst through, tearing the metal like paper. Minerva hopped down, once more jabbing her Keyblade into the crack, and wrenched it wider. She jumped down the newly-formed entrance. The identity of the pilot was clearer in-person.


Clad in a slimming, skin-tight suit of “armor” was Al’Shab Ka. The suit of blue, metallic, leathery-looking materially had silver veins lining it, much like the golem they were inside. His usual wispy hair was contained by a sleek helmet that covered the top half of his face. He brought a hand to the side of it, pressing a button and allowing it to reveal his eyes.


“What-?” She began, but was cut off by an impact against what felt like their side. An explosion was heard. The sphere was soundproofed for the most part but the destroyed window reversed any change it would have made. Al’s turned quickly, growling and breathing hard. He brought his arm up and whipped it from right to left. Outside, the false Keyblade lumbered through the air, following the same path Al’s took.

“What…what are you doing here?” He asked for her. His tone changed to a cordial one for her.

“I came here because, I, well…” Minerva’s speech trailed, she was finding it hard to word how she wanted to take down the institution that raised him.

“Did Master send you?”

That felt like a smart thing to lie about given her lack of information on what was going on.

“Yeah, he did. I was supposed to find you right away.”

He stared at her. His eyes were cold, yet anything but shallow and unfeeling. Minerva worried that the response was an unwise one.

“He’s still having me do this?”

The golem shook again, but this time Al’s did not tend to the offender. Minerva nodded, tense; she had expected a fight, only to receive a disturbing conversation.

“Alright.” He took a deep breath, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Go on and get out of here, it isn’t safe.”

“Just tell me where it is around here.” Minerva sighed, shrugging. Al’s chuckled, smiling gently before remembering where he was and going back to his default, nauseated expression.

“I’ll tell you when I find out. Stick close and I’ll do what I can to keep them off your back.”

He went back to his post, silver limbs radiating with Eternus Ignis and taking the reins of his assignment. His legs trembled when he shifted them, and his back arched as though it were aching terribly. Minerva did not like what she had just done; it felt like she was condemning him, even if Ra’s Ka had apparently told him to do it in the first place. Minerva reached up to the hole in the sphere, ready to climb out, but something caught her eye out ahead of them.

Lightning struck, connecting with the ground. Shrieking thunder pierced the air along with it. There was no storm to be seen nearby, as the ships in the area had parted the clouds, not to mention the color was off; bright orange. It was suspicious and alarming. Al’s had noticed it too, his proxy fighting stopped so that he could see the event. Another two bolts struck, crackling as loudly as the first. Wielders were vacating the area where the cataclysm occurred, or having the evacuation done for them.

Something had created a clearing in the distance. Minerva squinted, spotting a small group of wielders walking in regal formation. All of them wore pitch-black armor which was covered with pulsating orange tubing and wiring. There was an obvious leader among them; the one in front, with a helmet shaped like a crown adorned with electrified gems. A black cape with auburn decals billowed ominously in the desert wind. His visor was prominently pointed, like a nose, making it easy to see, when he looked up, that it was the golem he was most interested in.

They appeared robotic in everything but their movements, which were quick and fluid. When a wielder ran forth to challenge the lead, he did not stop walking, but only turned his head and raised his hand. His Keyblade was not even out. Angular, orange tendrils of lightning, like the bolts that heralded their entrance, spiraled around his arm and jumped from his hand, piercing the wielder in multiple fatal locations. While the wielder lowered his arm, the open wounds detonated in a burst of electricity, vaporizing the victim. The clearing increased in diameter soon after by wielders who had stopped fighting. It was not out of fear of the new challengers, however; it was out of interest.

Minerva looked to Al’s, who had locked gazes with the dark wielder.

“We’re going to end this here.” He said to her, monotone. Minerva shuddered, recalling Gren saying something just like it. Seeing another friend repeat it so ominously was frightening.

“No.” Minerva shook her head. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah,” Al’s responded flatly. The vibrant, alien lights which lit up the golem faded away. The all-white pod in which they stood went dark. All of the light in the room gathered to the floor underneath Al’s and collected at his feet. Running up his legs, it was sucked up into Al’s hand, forming something long in his hand; his Keyblade.

“I do.”

With superhuman agility, Al’s burst from the pod, sending any glass that remained flying.

“Al’s!” Minerva called after him. There was no way he heard her. She wished she had said no earlier.

He landed feather-like at about half the distance between them and the dark wielders, lit up as vibrantly as a star. Minerva thought that in spite of his seeming exhaustion, he looked brilliant, and felt some hope inside that the side she was most familiar with could come out on top. Subconsciously she ridiculed herself for being so biased in what she knew was an awful cause, but the light before her made her confident for once in what felt like a long time.

Bolder wielders of darkness charged for their chance at the obviously strong of heart. Al’s stopped, Keyblade outstretched. They threw themselves at him one at a time, taking their turn, not wanting to risk the delicate balance needed to create their prize. Al’s smote the first in half, not even challenged. He dueled longer with the next one but slayed him without much more effort. By the time and third and the fourth wielders came to fight, he was growing irritated. The only one fit to forge the X-Blade with him was behind legions of lower beings.

Without a second thought, his empty hand turned over and ignited in blue fire. An inferno blazed from up his arm and covered his shoulder, and once it roared high enough, he turned and lobbed it off to his right. It was magical incendiary, which exploded within seconds. He had still been making his way towards the dark wielder the entire time.

But that was only one flank taken care of; he turned his attention to his left. His right hand once more blazed on, but instead of throwing it, he chose the more torturous method of unleashing it on his victims in a cone. The flames poured out from his fingers without end, torching no less than a hundred wielders. When his attack’s range was insufficient and the wielders finally caught on and began to run, he pointed his Keyblade, energizing it with magic. Al’s pointed and shot casually as though it was a hand gun, with deadly accuracy. The butchering was a demonstration.

Al’s continued, at a much more leisurely pace, towards the exclusive arena the clearing had become that no one else dared enter. The dark wielder’s escorts summoned their blades and prepared lightning magic, but the leader waved them off, wanting what he saw as a fair challenge. He and Al’s saw themselves as equals, or rather, knew they were equals. Their hearts were pure, but polar opposites, and each of them felt it and could be no more certain.

And so they clashed. As soon as their Keyblade touched there were devastating results. Magic that they were full to the brim with was exploding out of them form the intense action. Incredible dodges and evasive maneuvers, spells of ancient nature, and Keyblade transformations of which were intricate and deadly. The circle of wielders grew wider as they backed off, now focused on the calamity unraveling. The arena was split evenly into two distinct sides; blue and white fire streaming form Al’s and his Keyblade, and orange and black dark magic, spouting off as wild arcs of lightning. Eventually their finesse deteriorated into violent exchanges where Keyblades were hammered against each other with as much strength as possible. The influx of magical energy created gale-force winds, and Minerva had to hold onto the remaining window frame for support. The golem wavered.

The combat in which the two were locked consistently reminded Minerva of her fight with Gren. Was it working, she wondered. Could Al’s really wield the X-Blade? Both duelists were obscured by the contrasting colors they threw off, consumed by a magical inferno it entirely.

Suddenly, as the duel reached its peak, when most of Minerva’s vision, even from afar, was obscured by blinding flashes, a column of light shot up into the air, rising without end. The ultimate weapon had been forged. Still, more blasts flared out form the center; the vaporizing energy flowed like tidal waves out in all directions, barring four strips of salvation in equal, opposing directions. From above, it resembled an “X”. The ships above noticed, at least those that were not being damaged and destroyed by the light.

Minerva felt the golem rock more roughly. She held on tight to the frame, but the entire machine began to fall backwards, freeing her of gravity. If it were not for the inverted pod protecting her she would have surely been disintegrated like thousands of others. When she opened her eyes, she was lying flat on her back, broken glass and dust covering her like a blanket. The dawn sky above had most cleared of ships, and a few gliders zipped away. Minerva crawled out of the golem; it was beyond repair, and skeletal thanks to the corrosive magic stripping it of its armor.

For a mile ahead, most wielders were gone; in place of them were Keyblades. Hundreds upon thousands of Keyblades littered the landscape, driven into the ground and sticking up like tombstones. The world could appropriately be called a graveyard now. Minerva looked to her sides, seeing the places where the magic had not affected; they resembled pathways. She made it to and followed one, seeing wielders who survived the blast struggling with injury and shock. The more fortunate, she assumed, must have left on their gliders already.

Did that make the war over? Was it that simple? It really depended on whether or not the X-Blade has been formed. Minerva thought of her friend down the path. She had to know if Al’s had survived, or if he had the X-Blade now.


When your Mask falls, what will you see.
Mar 19, 2009
Re: The ORG Intermission: Enmity

on the other hand, Yays! for new chapter <3

Edit: As always, breath taking <3. Plz, don't let it be a cliff-hanger for long, ne Joe-kun? =3
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