Battle of Red Canyon IX

 

With Airo present, I would've hoped to level the playing field against the walking tank. Which, in some sense, we did achieve. Although I beat him in one on one combat to claim the title of 001, I can't deny that 002 is amazing. No matter what I do, he always keeps up and matches my rhythm. He strikes with a series of jabs into the exposed section of Voss's eye, which he's carefully defending perfectly, while I kick his spine join. Soon, I forget my surroundings, and forget the screaming pain in my torso and head. It's just me, Airo and Voss. The two of us are sending him back and forth, punch to the jaw, kick the side, dodge his arm, punch to the chest, elbow to the face. 002 tosses a baton of metal upwards as he takes the full brunt of a brutal punch into his chest, and I catch it midair before bringing it down into a dented chestplate segment. The armour around his chest begins to visibly fracture, and suddenly the castle of steel I was fighting before begins to seem like a castle of glass. Voss hits the ground at his feet with both hands, sending us both tumbling away, both of us landing upright. Airo's crazy grin stretches even wider despite the streams of blood running down his chin. He's been disarmed of his spear, but with just his fists and legs he's still a deadly fighting machine. Voss is shedding metal shards and armour scraps like snow, glittering powder and pieces floating through the air as we keep up our momentum, whaling away at his body, avoiding getting turned into a grease spot by the giant fists rushing at us. That doesn't mean we remain unscathed though - Voss isn't stupid, and he finds ways to injure us in any way possible. More than once he makes moves for his axe, but it's too far away (which is also a bad thing because my sword is with it), embedded in a wall some three hundred feet away as a result of the numerous shockwaves produced from our long fight. He slams the ground, sending metal shards flying in all directions, scratching and slashing the parts where our skin is exposed. Every so often, he'll break through our 'dome' of offense and land a strike on one of us, but the other will buy time for them to get back to their feet. Very soon, it becomes clear that our two sides are gripped in a very tight deadlock. We just need to find the key, and little do I know it's not going to come from either of us.

As we're catching our breath, Voss advances, huge arms swinging at his side. But then he halts, mid-step. It all happens in the blink of an eye. A flash of blue light glances of his helmet, and he twists his body to dodge the giant bolt of blue chrona. However, it has caught him off guard and he fails to avoid the sniper shot, and his helmet explodes in a fireworks of metal scraps, exposing his head completely. A familiar voice crackles in from my comms, which until now has been dead silent.

"Hello, 001," Rain says. "We're coming."

Voss staggers, his back to us, one hand going up to his bleeding head. A second sniper bullet, of different kind, from Loflo's barrel, strikes him in the spine and the armour encasing his body is sent cascading across the courtyard.

"Sword!!"

I turn to see Elemental, his mechanical eye giving off small sparks and wounds covering his body, struggling up to the platform. He has something large and flat in his hand, and he tosses it my way. I catch it, and realize that he's found my shield.

"Thanks," I say, as 003 falls backwards and lies still, his injuries catching up to him.

The fact that he could still crawl all the way over here was already amazing, let alone with my shield. I turn back to Voss, who's blood is running down a shallow gash in his head a cut in his shoulder where Loflo's bullet has grazed him, and he looks back at us. Now, only one of his arms and his legs are encased in dented, battered armour, but he tears it off himself and lets the metal scraps fall to the ground. I get a good look at him now. And the most striking thing about him is… that this guy's young. A lot younger than I'd imagined. He looks to be only in his mid-thirties, with a caramel brown goatee that matches his slightly spiked hair. He looks just like your average guy, albeit three foot taller and riddled with bulging muscles. 

"…curses," Airo sniffs. "He's not tired at all."

He's right. But now that he's no longer concealed by the shell of armour, we can start to do some real damage.

 

Of course, the opportunity to hit him properly comes with its drawbacks. Voss moves way, way faster, and the hits he can dish out have become no less painful - his knuckles still seem to made of damn steel. But things have also changed because now I have my shield, and even if the sharp, rotating edges somehow can't cut through his inhumanly dense muscles, I can still block his attacks and slam him in the face with it. He lurches to the side and throws two hits at my side, one of them connecting with the centre of my shield and the other missing me entirely. Airo swings around and slams his heel at his neck, only to be blocked by a forearm as thick as a cannon barrel. I take the opportunity to drive the edge of my shield hard between his eyes, and a spurt of blood erupts from his face. We continue this game of back and forth, one of us taking a hit to let the other get one in. Blood and sweat fly off us as we continue our dance into the sunset, the bright red canyon walls looming up above us. I cannot hear anything other than the panting of Voss, Airo and my breath, and the thuds and clangs of our fists colliding with each other's flesh. Every heartbeat brings with it a stab of pain that courses through my veins. But I can't stop. Because if I fall now, I know that I won’t be able to get up again.

"Smile," Airo had said. "The best you can do now is smile, and throw those damn hands. Cuz that's what we were made to do."

Yeah. I'll do just that. I barely notice my exhaustion. That is, until the back of Viss's fist suddenly clubs me in the side of the head and I almost feel my eye fall out of my face. The world goes wavy again and I barely notice myself hit the ground. Airo kicks him in the abdomen and hauls me upwards, leaning me on his shoulder and prodding me in the forehead.

"Yo, you good man?"  he asks, as Voss pauses to catch his breath as well.

"Ugh…" I groan through parched lips.

I see Voss move in from the side of my vision, and Airo take the hit full on with a raised shin. The impact goes straight through him and into me, making my fractured and broken ribs rattle.  A small nagging though at the back of my head starts telling me that we are going to lose. That is, until I hear a loud whoop and Luc falls out of the sky like a missile.

 

He slams both of his gauntleted fists right into the crown of Voss's head, and I almost feel the pain in my own skull. Remarkably, this inhuman monster just staggers and doesn’t even collapse.

"Oof, that jarred me," Luc says, a surprised tone in his voice.

But he recovers right away and goes straight to work. Airo tells me to recover as quickly as possible and goes to back up Luc. With 004 present, the odds are flipped on their heads - because now we have someone who can match Kain Voss's slugfest fighting style. Luc takes a hit straight to the head, but he just tanks it and sends his own cannon-like punch into Voss's face, and blood flies. Airo leaps up, pressing a foot down on Luc's shoulder, using it as a foothold to eject himself in the air. In his heads he has a broken piece of Voss's chest plate, and he slams it over his head, before rolling side to let Luc connect a second straight punch to the jaw. Voss is on the backfoot now. Airo is hitting him behind the knees, and Luc is whaling away at his face. He collapses backwards for the first and last time this fight, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists tight as he makes his final barrage of blows. I can see the desperation in his eyes. I cannot say I hold any hostility for this man. Because just like me, and Airo, and everyone around me, he is fighting to survive.

"…I should wrap things up."

Luc and Airo stagger from the heavy hits just delivered to them, but I've recovered from my previous blunt force trauma. I push my feet off the ground, and watch Voss's features, contorted with a mixture of expressions, rush up to meet mine. I'm not quite sure what expression I was making then, and I don’t think anyone would've seen since I only have my eyes exposed. And that's the deadest part of me, if I say so myself. But I draw back my fist and put all my might into hitting this bastard. One his with my knuckles, another with my shield. Again. And again. His blood flies up, splattering across my face. Again, I hit him. His arm, at first raised to attack me even at the brink of death, falls slowly to the ground, and I feel his tensed up muscles slowly relax. Not yet. I hit him again. And on last time. I grab my shield with both hands, and slam the edge into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. A fourth time. I run out of energy, and breathing hard, I lower my round metal disc, now covered in red streaks and splatters. My vision become groggy. The last strength from the drug wears away, and I collapse forwards.

 

POV Airo

Airo caught the falling figure of Sword in his arms, and dragged him away to the side, laying him down beside Elemental. He was still conscious, but barely, all the energy gone from his body.

"Is it over?" Luc asked him, panting heavily.

"Yeah," Airo replied, smiling. "It's over."

"Damn. That was… quite the fight."

Airo squatted down beside Sword. All of a sudden, now that the brutal fight against Voss was over, everything came rushing right back to him. How many casualties on their side? Was the Prince safe? What about the others in the force? What abou-

"002," Sword croaked, lifting a shuddering arm up to his shoulder. "W…where's your smile gone?"

Airo paused, and suddenly all of his worries were flushed away, and he broke out into a laugh.

"What are you talking about, you moron?" he said, tapping Sword in the forehead. "Why would you be worrying about that when you look like you've just been through a blender."

Airo exhaled. When Sword had defeated him in their duel for 001, he couldn't remember what he'd felt back then. All he knew was that he had accepted that Sword was better and moved in to fill the now vacant gap that was 002.

"The Prince is arriving," Luc said. "We should get ready to greet him and everyone else. I want to check up on my squad anyway."

A tiny puff of laughter left Airo's lips one last time, and he rose to his feet.

"Go to sleep, Sword," he said.

"But… greeting… Pri-"

Airo squatted down again held a finger over Sword's mask.

"Sssh," he said. "No more, 001. You've done enough leading for today."

The sun slipped away behind the crimson walls of Red Canyon, as though they were stained with blood, and the moon and the stars started to cast their cold light upon the now silent fortress save for the crackling of fires and quiet chatter of soldiers. That dome of billions of twinkling lights smiled down on four individuals who had just written the openings to their own stories. One smiled too much, all laughter and speed. One talked too little, quiet as deep space. Another couldn't stop punching things, wild and fearless. And the last held them all in orbit, sturdy and unshakeable. Each one was a star, shining brightly alone. But only when they were together did the world look up and see the constellation that told their story.

 

POV Pharolen

"…the sun sets on quite the sight today," Pharolen said.

They stood around the courtyard, under the stars that were just turning on their lights. Nyx, the wound in her shoulder a ghastly sight even below layers of bloody bandages, and her complexion pale as the moon. Neo, covered in burns on his arms and down one side of his face. Rain, injured from duelling Siva Klyne. Luc and Chris, battered from spearheading the charge into the Third Wall, and Luc also with injuries from his part in defeating Kain Voss. Elemental, with his half-shattered body, lying to the side after defeating Thitus. Airo, blood streaming down his face and clothes, a little unsteady on his feet, but still a smile on his lips, the ever-strong second pillar that held up the force, 002. And lastly, Pharolen's greatest work, 001 'Sword'. He looked down at the golden-haired young man, lying beside Elemental, who had just reduced someone who had destroyed armies and cities and been revered as a 'Slaughter Saint' into a large, bloody bag of torn muscle and broken bones, whisps of breath struggling to rasp through his lungs.

"This is… beyond what I expected," he said, breaking the silence. "Someone fix up 001 and 003."

He turned away the scene. For once, the steady, cold, crafty Pharolen Von Arxenoir was lost on what to think, but he found himself drifting to back the first encounter he'd ever had with Sword.

 

As he had watched him struggle out of the pit, he had thought to himself 'this one is average at best'. And he had focused on Airo and Elemental more. But as the months in the Facility went by, his presence grew and individuals started to gather together alongside him. The battle between Woodsy's faction and Airo and Pod 50's alliance. His attention focused completely on the few individuals that made up 'Pod 50', and he knew that all of them would grow to leave their mark on history, if things went his way. Maybe that was why he couldn't help but say a few words to them that night after the battle.

"I am rooting for you, Pod 50."

He chuckled softly to himself as he walked away, towards the edge of Halycon Major's wall, and surveyed the hundreds of fires sprawled out across the landscape below, and he thought back to the decisive fight against Exqua, a monster that even Pharolen had been taken aback by. It had been quite the sight to see. But even then, Pharolen had never anticipated who in that cave would grow to take the mantle of 001 from the immovable wall, Airo. And even afterwards, time and time again, his expectations had been blown out of the water by… he smiled.

"…Reid," he said. "Sleep well."

 

The coming days were as chaotic as expected. Pharolen's presence became something that most of the world was unable to ignore, and millions acknowledged him as a challenger for Julian's iron throne. Even Callez stopped by to congratulate him. And Central's Third Prince took his place upon the global stage of individuals who could wield power stronger than all else. But as he stood in the blaze of history, he knew his shadow was cast by those who fought in silence. Backstage, unseen, unheard, yet always there, were the ghostly actors who bled for every line. To carry him through hell and vanish in the smoke before the curtains rose. Pharo Force was not something made to last. But neither are stars. And still, the night sky remembers them.