The sound of steel scraping across glass. “I will destroy you! I will end your miserable existence, turn you into the king we should have been! Our fathers demanded it, our mothers goaded it! WE ARE ONE, INQUISITOR!” There was a trail of blood, and the arm Sophia had immobilized, torn off, and cast away. The blood led into a cave, and if Sophia followed, she would come deeper into the darkness. She could feel the hatred, coursing through her, the land, the walls, it was all around her, moving through her, refusing to be stalled, refusing to be stopped.

It was rage and pain, and all those things, focused into an Icy hatred. She was in the final barrier before she would tap into all of Peter's corrupted positive emotions. Mordred was there, the silver light surreal, as he struck a glass barrier, time and again, with Clarent single handedly. He was bleeding profusely, from the shoulder he had torn his own arm from. “I just... have to... Get past it...” He took Clarent in a shaking hand, and raised it, flat edge of the sword of peace raised to thrust, and crush the glass wall, as opposed to slashing like the sword was used for. “Live... want to live... Have to corrupt him... Have... to...” He was panting, gasping. His hand shook. “Brittania...” He steadied himself, and there was a brief moment of stillness.

The screech of steel on glass was unnerving, and the fog of hatred nauseating. Sophia is unsure where exactly she was in Peter’s soul. “Why does it matter? You can make your own choices as to what you become. As to what happen to you. You don’t have to follow the footsteps of your predecessors when you know it will only end poorly,” she calls out to the voice. Sophia follows the trail of blood, confused as to where it comes from. She never hurt Modred, only immobilized him. It isn’t until she sees the bloody stump that was formerly an arm that she understands. Persistence to point of dismembering oneself, and all to sow more unhappiness.

She frowns as Mordred slashes the final barrier. “Put down Clarent unless you plan to take the sword up against me.” Her blade is held high. The ochs position. Defensive and threatening at the same time. Her body moves of its own accord. Like muscle memory.

As she stepped out of the gate the little thing about her person that was affected by the transition from one area to the next regained their partial loss of gravity. Her hair as well as the bits of her her bows and the extensions of frill and lace that decorated her senshi outfit once more dropped down into place. Opening her still golden eyes she looked around and to her right she spotted Mordred attacking the barrier and then she noticed the senshi girl she saw from earlier. She did not know this ones name, however she knew already what she had to do.

Turning so that she faced towards the two of them she took her staff in two hands, raising it up above her head she concentrated and slammed the glaive part into the ground causing a metal on metal clang to pass through the air. Taking a deep breath she exhaled slowly as she opened her eyes the glow of her staff taking up its once more garnet hue that bathed the area in its warm ambient light.

"Fates gate." She spoke which seemed to echo though the small area as she licked her lips a gate would quickly erect itself before the glass wall however it was at a 85 degree angle covering the glass wall entirely As well as giving the barrier a bit of a 'slope' as it connected the top of the barrier to the bottom of the cavern. Using her impressive spacial reasoning skills she opened the end gate before it it a parallel angling set. There was a slight offset to it so that way there was a nearly 25% chance of any one tumbling nearly endlessly through one gate and into the other would do just that. Tumble endlessly, keeping in mind of the percentile of failure if one were to miss and it not to be the first few transition from gate to gate.. Well.. Azeria was no physicist but she knew gravity hurt and after a few short cycles the force would be lethal on its own.

"If you wish to break that down.. You will have to first kill me." She spoke boldly, however that did not stop her legs from quivering. She was new to this and she knew it however Azeria was urging herself to be more than this she was urging herself to be brave and to not let any obstacle from standing in her way. Even if that meant playing whack a mole.

Azeria and Sophia begin to lose sight of the world around them, as they are exposed to a vision. A corrupted memory of sorts, the obvious reek of Chaos Taint changing this memory.

The long haired man walks into a poorly lit room, stone walls, grey and bleak. With steps leading down, and curving into the center of the room. He waves a hand, and speaks a few quiet words, ordering another man out of the room. Leaving the long haired man, and a hooded man, both in knight's armour, in the room alone. The hooded man is in once gleaming, now sullied silver armour, with a blue hood hiding blonde hair. The long haired man bears lilac hair, an eyepatch over his left eye, and is in black armour with a golden filigree. He stares at the once paladin with a disgusted look on his face.

“Can you hear that, Knight of Xenobia?” There is a din of noise, conflict, shouting, chaos above them, but it is all muffled by the thick stone walls, and the sturdy wooden door.

The blonde man is bloodied, obvious signs of torture and mistreatment. “It is only a matter of time before you fall.”

The black armoured man smiles. “Who rules in Valeria is a trifling matter. You of all people must understand this.”

“... “

More shouting is heard, and finally the blonde man speaks, slightly condescending, but with a trace of vindication. “Let me guess. Unable to stem the tide that rises from the hamlets and villages?”

The black armoured man gives a soft, warm chuckle, genuine mirth. “Perhaps we asked too much of the Bakram's soldiers. They are not the soldiers we are, you know. Or the men.“

The blonde man spits to his left. “Always binding people to your will, fettering them lest they show signs of free thought. Perhaps therein lies your problem?”

There is another laugh, a near tear in the laughter of the black armoured man. “They ask for a stern hand to rule them.”

Shock, and confusion on the blonde's face. “They...ask? You're mad!“

A shaken head, and a dark smile. “ You have it wrong. It is the world that is mad. Tell me, how many of these peasants would even lift a hand to better their lot were they given a chance? How many would bloody their hands, risk their necks, walk without leaning upon another?“

“...”

“Think back to your own uprising. Where were the people for whom you shed blood? Safe at their hearths, grousing that more was not done for them!” The night armoured Knight finishes.

“Times were hard. They had all they could do to keep themselves fed...” A retort from the blonde.

A rebuke from the lilac haired Dark Knight. “Nonsense. They chose to be victims! They think that only from without the castle walls may one voice discontent. Not realizing that the quickest way to the throne is a knife to the king's ribs.”

The outrage from the blonde is clear. “These people have the right to live out their own lives, not some part in a play of your design!”

A shaken head, and disgusted look. “You have both your eyes, and yet you see less clearly than do I. True freedom is not granted from above, it is won from below. And yet the commons look without for a savior, even as they claim sovereignty over their own fate! They wait and they wait for this savior, never taking that first step toward saving themselves.” The lilac man finishes speaking, sighing.

The blonde speaks weakly. “Man is not so slothful a creature as that.... They...merely lack our strength.”

The lilac haired man chuckles. “You are much too pure of heart, Holy Knight. The people have no need of dreams. We give them all they need.”

“And what is that, pray tell?”

“A strong, unwavering ruler.”

“You Are Mad.”

“All men are born with a terrible burden upon their hearts, this insatiable yearning for pleasure. They do not hesitate to take the lives of others if it will better their own. And yet, even these base creatures can know guilt. So what do they do? They turn it round. This is not -my- fault, man says. The world has failed me. Someone must bring order to this chaos! If the commons want to pursue their pleasure, let them do it in our service, under our rule!”

“You call this "rule"? This trampling underfoot of all who disagree with you? “

“We trample no one. All we do is reach beneath the suppurating flesh of this world and wrench out the source of its ailment.”

“No. As the body strives to mend itself, so does the heart. These people you so despise may one day astonish you with their valor!”

The corruption grows.

“You have far too much faith in the creature called "man," Knight. People are drawn to power, drawn toward safety. They will betray even their most beloved to obtain it. It pains me to part with the man who is my opposite, but I have no more need to debate this. Lodis has won. And Xenobia falls. Farewell, Knight of Xenobia.” A singing strike of a blade made of light, and the Holy Knight is no more. The memory fades. And Mordred tumbles into the gate. And does not emerge.

Walking behind them, the sound of armoured footsteps striking stone floors, is a slowly approaching man. “Lodis must be born. Brittania died the moment Peter deigned let that whore, and you mongrels live. You are the enemies of this beautiful dream. One which exists free of Senshi, worshiping Chaos, she who will be part of all things." He is the purple haired man from the vision. His sword is seemingly made of white light, yet has a gleaming edge to it. “You both die, here and now. Then the rest. Then him. And then, your world. I will remake him, as a man who will bring my Empire to fruition. Such is how this all must end. Neither of you could find what Peter had stripped from him, that thing which makes a Man, into a Knight."

Sir Ravd once spoke of it... This thing, which is neither strength nor wealth, nor servants nor accolade. A ghost of a familiar voice. Mordred lay dead a few feet from them. But it was not his voice that echoed from his corpse. We had it once... Before Shourido. We followed a better code...

"Silence phantom. I drive them from your keep, so cease your mournful rattling. I am more true than they. Where were they when you despaired, knowing your love would but take a babe into battle?"

Sophia blinks as she hears the clank of metals and warmth of bright light, confused by the sudden appearance of her elements. However, she is relieved to the unknown senshi. She wasn’t alone in this. Her eyes keep on Mordred, more confident that before, until the scene slips away from her again.

She watches the two men talk over whatever destruction happens just outside of sight. Whether this is past, present, future, or none of the above remains unknown. She would like to have come to the blonde’s man defense, but this story was already written. It’s not too surprising that everything is set in stone in Peter’s mind. And then Mordred tumbles toward his own destruction… as he seemed hellbent on doing before. She has no time to recover from Mordred’s sudden death when a new presence emerges.

Her sword shines brighter as if striving to match the light off the opposing sword. “I can’t allow the people to be made subservient to you or anyone else. I won’t allow for tyrants, even if they happen to be a senshi or knight.”

“What was it?” she asks the voice, “Chivalry? Bushido? Or something else…” She lowers her blade to the pflug position, more defensively, waiting for the purple-haired man to strike at her.

The purple haired man's stance widens, two hands holding the blade by the hilt, his stance stable, and entirely alien for a western weapon. The voice is soft, weak. Our code... Irrelevant... It is not what we lost... One can not lose a code... Sorrow is heard there, speaking of what they had lost. We became cruel in our strength... Not kind. We counted our foes...

Lanselot Tartaros smirked coldly. "And so he became imprisoned within the taint. And all the Queen's Senshi, and all the King's Knights, will never be able to put the Inquisitor back together again. Not once this ends."

A blue gauntlet emerges from the shadows, taking Azeria by the arm, and yanking her away, out of sight, out of mind. "He abandoned it to embrace Shourido, and drink from the teat of Power. Wisdom, and Power, with the Will to use them." Lanselot waited for her to make the first strike. "You are the challenger. It goes to you."

Sophia struggles to figure out what he lost from the soft voice. “Not a code… Compassion?” she asks the voice. The voice’s sad tone tugged at her heart. Forever living in the corruption. It was the exact fate that she asked that they spare Scorpio from. No one deserved that…

“You seem very confident about that. I think I’ve made a point to show that I’m not like the other senshi of now, before, and future,” she says, meeting the purple-haired man’s eyes, “And if you’d let me, I’d like to help you too. You all don’t have to continue living in this pain. And there are ways to a brighter future that don’t demand violence. In fact, I don’t think you can build a utopia on a pile of bones.”

She blinks as he asks asks her to strike first before shaking her head. “I can’t… You either have to strike first or turn away from me to go hurt Peter. But I’d rather stand here and get you to reconsider things.” Her stance remains defensive as she watches what the man does next.

"Then you fail your ideals." He turned, purposely, and stood in front of the glass wall, closing his one eye. The blade began to build with more blinding radiance. "To turn against Lodis is to turn against Life!" He raised the blade slowly, the radiance casting deeper shadows. It became as bright as the sun, the energy being built in the blade. Light turned to the service of the Enemy. The elemental energy screamed at Sophia's senses, to stop this atrocity. If the walls were opened while Lanselot lived, that was the end of Peter as she knew him.

What does Bushido lead on towards, alongside Chivalry? But it matters not, the walls open, and the Darkness will be free.

“It doesn’t have to be this way!” Sophia screams, unsure what to do next. She’s never been in a fight by herself, and she’s never had to take a life. Light itself screams, and the sword echoes it, lighting up. It rattles her mind, and suddenly, reality shatters to pieces in mind.

“Honor,” says a much stronger voice from the small girl. Venus moves very little as she charges him. Her style is not flashy but focused on elegance of simplicity. Intermittently, her outfit will switch to a flowing yellow gown before returning to her normal senshi attire. Ribbons and sheer fabric flow behind as she advances like a mirage of her former self. A ghost of days long since gone and a woman long since dead. Past and present blur.

"There it is." He turned, smirking. "You may have denied me his soul, Ravd guarding him now, but I will kill you, Princess of Venus." His sword was brilliantly radiant as well, his style focusing on flowing from one move to another like a river, striking with the strength of an avalanche, the intensity of fire, and the nimbleness of air. Light and Light clashed, each time the swords touching releasing radiant tones. His face was lit in a pleased smile. "This sword was torn from a Fallen Angel, your blade will not break it. It is the one thing able to stop your blade. How fitting it is, no?"

They were in blade lock, the Death Templar's eye staring into hers. "Maybe you can purify him. I see it in you now. That same resolve that young man had. What will you do after? Will you turn him against the one he loves? Or will you let him die, and seek the Void he loves?"

This wasn’t the first time that someone had had said they would take Venus’ life. Very few were actually successful. “I’m afraid I will have to deny you my life as well. I couldn’t allow myself to die here when so much hangs on me living,” she says, staring through the light. She looks at the sword strangely as it almost mirrors the intensity of her own, and frowns at the revelation of its origins. “There is far more to this blade then the light it shines or where it comes from.” The sword clung to her soul. It was part of her duty, which she was not allowed to fail, and her burden, which that she had to shoulder.

As the question is posed about what comes after, she pushes further into the sword. “I will not let the void have him. I had promised him that. What else comes after? Something different. We will not repeat ourselves until oblivion reaches us.” She disengages from the bind, and makes a beat, attacking from the outside.

He kicks backwards the moment she disengaged, just barely pulling his stomach back to avoid the belly wound that would have surely killed him. "Are you...? Ahh... His Void is not a hell. It is the source of his existence. It is his raison d'etre. He seeks it just as Chaos does. He loves her. She is his true love. Beryl is a pity, a desire to save her from suffering. The Void is his one true home, his own true love. Mother and Lover." He thrust forwards, point first, adapting his swordplay, and foining at her, putting her on the defensive. "Sustenance and Endpoint. Alpha and Omega. Once he is in the void, he is no longer alone, no longer scared, terrified as he always is, that the past and the future will end him." He kicked forwards with the foin, and threw his entire weight into it. "Chaos and the Void are as one. He wishes to end her pain as well. His pain is meaningless, so long as he ends the pain of the Maiden Scorned." He overcommited, overstressing his point, and his point. The opening was there, but the follow through would carry the blade into the wall of glass. Despite the small distance, somehow, Venus felt it. The rules of this world becoming apparent perhaps?

Venus sidesteps, blocks her opponent’s blade, and binds it downward. “I never claimed that it was. But he would lose what little he has left following it into nothingness. While it is vast, it is not everything. It is not love, it is not home, it is escape from pain of existence, but he does not realize all that must be lost first. It doesn’t surprise me though. He doesn’t understand the concept of love.” Her voice is pained somewhat in the last sentence.

“The pain that chaos and him are self-inflicted as is their torment. There is a way out rather than engulfing all of existence into emptiness.” Her eyes register to the opening, but don’t move off her opponent to look at it directly. However, the glass would break if she took it. And then what would happen next? Probably best not to take the chance. She feints, trying to get her opponent to move further from the glass.

Lanselot rolls with the move, and kicks backwards, hopping while keeping his sword moving like a wall of light and pseudo-steel. "If he does not reach the Void, he has no purpose. It is the essence of all that is. Thunder is Heroism, the Void is Divinity." As he spoke, he was shifting, the form of the Death Templar destabilizing. It was a brief thing, but soon he regained cohesion. "They have engaged his mental defenses? How did they get detected? We have been blinding the defenses..." He seemed... Perturbed. "We have a time limit it seems. Peter's mental defenses have engaged, and have given up on misdirection... It is going to start attacking all outside entities. Break the barrier, and save yourself. I will feed on his life force, true, but it is better than allowing his mental defenses to tear you apart. Quickly!"

He was standing to the side of the glass... "The Love and Warmth inside of the mantles and core will sustain you."

Venus parries and binds the blade upward this time. “The Void is not divinity. It holds no more power than what you give it. I don’t understand why he is so frightened to make his own destiny and fate, but must put it in the hands of someone or something else.” She doesn’t press forward as her opponent destabilizes. She lowers her sword. The stance of the fool or someone acting the part. As she looks to the glass and back to the man. Torn apart by her own friend’s mind. Her eyes dim returning slightly to the familiar small girl.

As he finishes telling her to save herself, she meets his gaze, before charging at the man with sudden speed. Now, he was away from the glass. She had her own light and love to sustain her, radiating that positive emotion of her planet. Her blade's metal sings along with the light shining off her and her blade. Whether, they tore her apart didn't matter her. Death was never a concern. She had to win this battle though.

Where were her other guardians when she required them? ERIS! The first and final guardians of the Moon Kingdom would and could fight any obstacle until the end. The voice would call out to Lance Evans, Soma, Oni: "Eris, aid me in protecting these glass walls and taking down our adversary. There are troops coming in, and the Moon depends on us once again."