Fight me: AG.
((It has certainly been long enough. I recommend listening to this for the beginning, this for the fight, and then this at the end while reading.))
This wasn’t how you wanted it to end. In the back of your mind you knew that it would one day come to this, but you had hoped it would not be so soon. It wasn’t supposed to be so soon. You weren’t….you were never supposed to fight her, the Maid and the Prince were supposed to deal with her in the end. Another necessary mental trauma you would engineer to push them just so, so that they would do what was needed to be done. Now though, now that is impossible, for together you and she have doomed the session to being just another in a long line of failed realities.
Strangely enough you find yourself not caring about the fate of the Game for once. No, all that matters as you hold the corpse of your love is the all-consuming blackness that is pouring from your core. Often, in days long past, you would insist to TC that you never got angry, not really, and by your meaning that was true. To you anger was about levels of the acceptability of your actions. Certainly you would become annoyed or frustrated and it would show in your tone becoming angered but to you that wasn’t true anger. For you true anger was a black pit, an aching need to do violence upon that which hurt you in any ways you could. It was that visceral desire to reach out and grasp your enemies and rend them to shreds with your bear hands. It was a dark hole in your heart that has always been there. One that you had hoped you would never fall into again, not after the things you had done when you were younger.
But now? Now you let the hate and Rage fill you. You let that deep and dark ocean of raw anger fill you to the brim and wash away any other feeling. You would no longer be able to stop. You would no longer care for the fate of your universe. The Singer’s end was nigh, and that was the only thing you believed in.
In the end, you didn’t need to go out of your way to find her; after you took care of your love’s funeral she was waiting for you above the planet. “Monstrous” was the only thing that would come to mind when you looked upon her terrible form. A multitude of wings made from the energy of pure Hope arced around her body while a baleful white light seemed to wish to escape from her very flesh. You think back to descriptions of angels in the bible, and how the Singer would now fit along well with those created to kill demons in ancient times. She was not alone of course, the Singer’s chorus of corrupted players were arrayed about her as if they were the Heavenly Host, come to cleanse the Earth of its sins.
Of course, in the end it matters little to you how many players you have to kill. You had planned on hunting them down anyways after dealing with their Singer, and having them all here saves you the trouble. As you float leisurely towards the Host of angels, the Singer’s smile splits her cheeks in an unnaturally large smile, her joy at your arrival clear on her inhuman features. She says something, sweeping her hands out to the other angels around her, but you don’t take the time to decipher her speech, the black pit in your soul hungers for her death and you are more than willing to grant its desire. Rage fills you, but it does not clash with your Hope. No, for once a clear purpose is laid out before you and a thousand ways to achieve it flash through your mind. Yes, you think to yourself, the first order of business would be to crush the smirk off of her face.
It occurs to you that in her hubris the Singer had forgotten just what you were the Lord of, and as you raise your hand towards her Host you remind her. Reaching out to the angelic army, you clench your fist and reach out with your will. Hope comes to your call and molds itself to your belief. Within seconds the power of hope that saturated the lesser angels is ripped from their bodies, their lifeless corpses now nothing more than so much meat as you destroy them from the inside. As you turn your attention to the singer though, you are forced to step back as her sword of black fire arcs through where your head had been a moment ago. Your evasion of her is not complete though as her sword severs your outstretched arm as simply as one would slice butter. You meet her eyes calmly, your Rage hidden within the depths of your soul and you see her own grin falter. The Singer had never truly fought you and had no idea of what you were really capable of, something you planned to school her on. 「Fiction Sonata」, you tell her 「My arm was cut off by your sword」. Instantly your arm was back where it belonged, looking to all the world as if you had never lost it. You watch the realization flash across her visage as you gather Hope in your hand, unleashing a lance of white magic directly at her heart. You are too slow of course, by the time you targeted her she was already teleporting away. But that was fine with you, your class powers weren’t the only trump card you had.
You it takes you all of two seconds to access your sylladex and pull out the Already Speared, and in that time frame she was already activating a card you knew would cause your death if you did not kill her fast enough. That was fine though, with this spear you had all the Time in the world to pierce her heart. 「You know…」,you say, 「I don’t believe you’re ever seen me use this have you?」. You listen to her say something in the angel tongue but don’t even bother trying to understand it, the Singer was already dead, you just hadn’t thrown the spear yet. There was no Time like the present though and with a feeling of satisfaction you threw your god-weapon at her. As you threw the spear, the weapon’s ability activated. And before the spear even left your hands it had pierced the Singer’s heart, barbs growing from its spear-tip to destroy nearly every part of her body from the inside out.The fight is over then, her corpse tumbling backwards, dead before she ever had the chance to activate a healing card from her deck. You watch her float off impassively. There is no joy, no celebration in your mind for you have long since left your heart behind. You leave your spear in her chest because it does not matter what sort of power you hold now. Everything was doomed in the end.
You head back down to where you love rests and you lay down beside her to wait for the inevitable end.「I was always the tragic sort of hero wasn’t I?」