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Eryl Fairfax     Upon entering the paradox singularity, one finds themselves in an open field. The grass underfoot is green and the sky is blue, streaked with white clouds. The only thing that mars the view is a shimmering grey haze, one that speaks with words heard through a myriad of filters. It is at once like listening to someone through a bad connection, and while at a noisy party, and over the sound of rain and all manner of background noise.

    "Why?... I only wish to see potential - all potential - realised. Not just a single wish, but all wishes... granted. Why do you deny me, that which can see all your dreams made true?"

    Cenedril speaks first, a firm scowl on her face. "Everyone's wishes? That means awful people too. Sick people, who don't understand what they're asking for. Everything will fall apart, and the centre will not hold!" The haze thinks for a moment (or at least, seems to,) and responds. "Then wish some rules into place. All of you, here at my core, have the means to dictate what reality would be. You can decide; make the world whatever you wish it to be."

    Cenedril's reply dies in her throat. However, Clow Reed speaks up from the back, his voice betraying his exhausting. "Mark not their words; if they were so omnicapable, I would have never been able to hold them." The voice hisses back, "Do not doubt me, Clow Reed. I have grown fat on Servants and the power of this world during my time in confinement. Nothing is beyond me. I shall create a world where all potential is realised."

    The haze condenses. Tightens to create body lines of taut muscle, strong arms and sturdy legs. In a flash, a sword-shaped figment appears in its hands, one made from the rest of it. "But if you choose to face me, know that I have gleaned the nature of things from our previous battle. You creatures have the means to make even the most improbable possibilities real. And so, I will use this against you. Know that if you choose to oppose me, you face the Monomyth. The figure behind the face of every hero you laud."

    The sword is pointed. "Now choose; create the new world, or die at the feet of it."
Ritsuka Fujimaru     The sudden shift in scenery has Jeanne furrowing her brow, the vast field giving her a weird sense of peacefulness that doesn't appear to sit right with her. She scrunches her nose, her grip on her sword is still tight as ever, and her gaze at the haze is the only thing keeping her from just taking her time looking arund.

     "If I was an idiot like my other self, I'd probably believe you." Jeanne starts with a confident chuckle, her tone still holding quite a bit of venom in it. "Feeding into the crap you're spouting, thinking up some kind of clever way to work around whatever you've got planned..."

    The bottom of her banner strikes the grass with a rather underwhelming thump of metal on dirt. Undeterred, the Avenger continues. "But I'm not that stupid! Whatever power you have isn't going to accomplish a damn thing that I couldn't on my own already. Hell, even these..." She grimaces slightly while glancing around at the gathered group, deliberately avoiding looking at anyone in particular for too long. "... People have proven themselves more than you ever have."

     She shivers briefly. She'll just blame that on the lingering effects of that chaotic energy. "And if you really hold as much power as you claim... Then I think I'll just take it after we're done here." That feels better. Much better.
Reiji Arisu "Any rules we would create would be inherently flawed," Reiji Arisu, a man who has stood as witness to several acts of genesis, says with quiet resolve. "You're asking a handful of mortal--" He pauses, looks toward Touta and Priscilla, then over at Jeanne Alter- an Actual Ghost- then finally back toward Potential Incarnate. "--A handful of very human, very limited individuals to wish out the fundamental underpinnings of a new cosmos. Even if we were to accept, the world we would create would be no better than the one that exists now. Maybe it would be even worse? That too is a potentiality. If we decided that no impulsive wish would be fulfilled, then how would we decide what impulse-- what desire-- is long lived enough? If only 'good' wishes are allowed to come to fruition, then who is going to arbitrate that? Are you asking /us/ to?"

The exorcist shakes his head. "...I can't believe that you're claiming responsibility for the likes of my father-- for Lord Gywn. Despicable. Utterly despicable. You can't even seize the possibility you desire most. That's why you need us, isn't it? Why you wear the faces of heroes." He readies himself, hand moving toward the his arsenal of blades. "Even the Avenger thinks you're no good. If you are a being of pure potential, then hear this! My greatest wish at this moment is for this war to come to a close! We already have the power to seize the improbable! You have nothing to offer us!"
Touta Konoe     The group enters into the anomaly created by the Grail after Reed's support. The grassy field, the blue skies all of it seem so peaceful for the first few moments before the grey haze fills in. The distorted voice making it's appeal to the group. Expressing it's desire to have all wishes come true was something that honestly did sound appealing. Of course, Cenedril is one of the first to note the flaws of such a system.

    He listens silently for the others to say their pieces as he's sure they would. It's not like the head of the Concord and a Chevalier of the Paladins could ignore something like this, especially when it was threatening their lives at the creation of a new world. "Mmmm, I think everyone's basically said their stuff about how we're not really up to snuff on making the rules for those wishes. But even if we were...I don't really think you got as much power as you think you do anyway. I mean, you already got caught in a paradox before and there's no guarantee that even if we were arbitrating rules that it wouldn't happen again down the line. It's a shame though..."

    The boy looks at the blade pointed at him with a bit of disappointment. "...There's plenty of things that I'd wanna wish for. Things that are way easier to grant than a 'new world'." The thought of bringing back Rynith, to get back Nagi, to remove the one who was causing all the trouble from his world from the universe, or bringing back a person who could save the day for his world all came to mind about wishes he could have wanted from the grail. "But the fact of the matter is, I don't think you could even grant things as simple as that...And even if you could..."

    Touta brings up his blade in parallel to the haze entity's. "You put a hole in my great-gramps gut and then absorbed him. That's enough reason for me to decide to kick your ass."
Priscilla     Before her eyes, Gwyn dies again. The second end Priscilla had seen come to this same visage, all over again, met in the same way, for the same purpose. It is a second death in of itself, after the death in all but name that'd come before with that last brilliant act of the First Flame --for the second time once more. One she'd missed, again, there only to witness the warm embers stoke a last tragedy --again.

    Her throat feels raw, though she hasn't said anything for minutes. She feels nothing but an awful squeezing in her chest, though her superfluous heartbeat had stopped long before. She becomes aware of her palms bleeding, though Clow Reed had already healed her wounds.
"It is not him." Is what she tells herself. She thinks of the way he'd first laid eyes on her when she'd come after Cenedril.
"A Servant. A summoned familiar of a Master." she says. She thinks of the time they'd shared in Anor Londo, in private. The things he'd said.
"A ghost of history. A copy. A different person." she says. She thinks of his face, when he'd confided that last secret in her.
"A man his own. An ephemeral thing of stories and tales. One that shouldst disappear without fuss." she says. She thinks of what he had said when she had asked him for his wish. His answer.
"It was inevitable that he wouldst go. It is the purpose of a being summoned from nothing" she says. She thinks back to the Kiln of the First Flame. The look he'd --the real Gwyn-- worn when he died. His last words to her.

    It's all that fills her head when the Grail speaks to her. The 'omnipotent wish-granting device' that really had become nearly omnipotent. Even now, even without the slightest trust in its words, she could have anything she could think of. Even now, stopping to think about any of this --to feel this way-- is pointless; she could wish it all away along with its cause, make it even better than before instead of reflecting and dwelling on it like this.

    And so, rubbing the back of her hands, at the corners of her eyes, her voice quiet and hoarse, Priscilla's reply to the Grail is: "The very notion . . . Absurd." For an instant, she chokes, and then it becomes slow, dry laughter, directed solely at herself.

    "To bring that man back to life. Lord Gwyn. To resurrect him yet another time how is it that I couldst this sheer height of folly only now? Divinity, a Servant, a man, a familiar, a Lord, a paradox --it matters not, in the end, does it?"

    Priscilla lets her shoulders fall, spreading her hands wide. "All of them art Gwyn, and Gwyn in all of his forms didst long, long ago maketh his wish. Long before even mine own birth. Truly, even at the moment everything began, that man didst hath his mind set. Everything from then on, for all the history of creation, hath been only so much intractable inertia, from a wish already made, and already fulfilled." She laughs again. "Even given the opportunity to do anything, change anything, wish for anything at all --of course that man wouldst hath no use for 'potential'. The word itself is absurd. What point is there to potential whence the outcome one wished for is already chosen? Potential, then, is but chaos and entropy. The infinite potential for anything but thien heart's desire is merely an infinite number of foes to defeat. Is that not right?"
Priscilla     "Given life again, his sole use for it was to die once again, so that he wouldst see that the world he built with his first life remaineth just the way that it is. What then, is the use of a third life? I was blind not to see it before, but I wouldst be a fool to refuse to see it now." The ghost of a smile on her lips is a sad thing of bitter chagrin

    "Lord Gwyn hast what he desires. It is only I who still wavers. I hath inherited all of that stuborrnnes, the desire for unreasonable things, the lack of knowing whence to slow or cease, but as it wouldst seemeth, somewhere before now I hath lost touch with what it is that I am part ways through wishing for mineself. One cannot wish for anything whilst thinking of what someone else wouldst desire to see, no matter how wise and trusted thou think of them." Priscilla picks up her scythe once again, absentmindedly tracing the unnatural, organic-looking metal under her fingertips. "A true wish, offered without deception and disaster, and yet here I am, the disaster mineself. Ridiculous."

    Only then does she finally seem to acknowledge the Grail's presence. She'd spoken aloud so that it would hear, but now she speaks *to* it. "For thine elucidation, I hath only ever once created a new world of mine own, and never again since, no matter how many chances given. At every point, I hath slain 'potential' to the last. Bright new things, unknown possibilities, entire worlds with their own multitudes of souls; I hath ended them with barely a thought, time and time again. I had thought it an expression of mine limitations, perhaps. That it is not mine to create, only destroy, and at best, preserve others who may create in mine place. I do not foresee such changing even now."

    "Like that dear, hopelessly single minded, man, whom I miss even now, I see it is that I hath, already, the only thing that I hath ever been interested in creating. Waiting for the day I wouldst be honest enough to finish it."

    "Mine apologies for leading thee this far, only to betray thine expectations, wish-granter. Truly, in all the wishes offered, granted, and twisted in the Multiverse, I must be the one to so direly reverse our roles. As it is however, there is no use in even infinite 'potential' for things I hath no desire for."

    The Lifehunt scythe clicks into position. "Dost thou not knoweth? The very definition of potential is that the moment it is realized, all other potential is discarded. When one thing comes into existence, it kills every possibility otherwise. Pray, do not linger so overlong. It is clearer than day now that all those accounted hath no fondness for such insistence." Priscilla lunges for the figure.
Eryl Fairfax     "Such arrogance. Tell me, Jeanne d'Arc, are you merely refusing me because your 'other self' also answered a call from God? Contrarianism is a poor way to live your life." The Monomyth sounds unbearably smug, but the girl gets a hand on the shoulder from Clow. "Your life is your own. Do not fight angry, that is what they want."

    The figure shakes their head at Reiji. "No system is perfect at first. It is through development that it becomes so. But I suppose I can expect no better from a so-called 'defender of the natural order.' Someone raised on their father's drivel cannot look past it." The grass in the field begins to die spreading out from the Monomyth, the dirt becoming arid as the sun overhead burns brighter.

    "So petty a reason, Touta Konoe? I suppose that is a bratty child's logic. Whomever raised you should be ashamed." The sky overhead darkens, heavy rain-clouds forming as thunder rumbles.

    Priscilla's words hang heavy in the air. Cenedril looks to her, and then to her feet, ashamed of her prior wish. The Monomyth tsks. "I had thought that you, of all here, would see sense. But such callous justification of your own family's death... your throne has hardened you, I suppose."

    Lightning peels, and in that flash of light, the paradox strikes.

    Every hero with a sword has a move where they close the distance as they attack. It's a simple fundamental of combat. But when the Monomyth does it, they leave a trail of faces and the swords they bear in its weak. It is every single one of those strikes at once, and it lands them among their opposition in the moment before thunder rumbles.
Ritsuka Fujimaru     "No. I'm refusing you because your head is so far up your own ass that even a child can see the holes in your plan." Jeanne replies with a taunting grin, her expression turning into a grimace when Clow puts his hand on her shoulder. "... You haven't met me yet, have you? I never gave you permission to touch me."

    A beat, and then she goes right back to the Monomyth. "And I think contrarianism's gotten me quite far, thank you very much." She adds, that smug aura practically radiating off of her at that point. Heat, too, as dark flames start to build around Jeanne in preparation for the first strikes of their final battle. She charges straight ahead with her blade and banner in each hand, twirling both weapons deftly before thrusting them both forward at the oncoming Monomyth.

    No attempt to deflect or avoid the attack is made, and she takes the slash directly across her front with a splash of blood from the more lightly armored part of her chest. The flames barely protect her, but they're not aimed to protect. Jeanne doesn't appear interested in dodging at all.

    "Better a contrarian or a petulant brat than to have infinite heads up my own ass." Of course she has to slip in that last barb. With the flames churning around her weapons, the Avenger starts lashing out with reckless abandon, thrusts both sword and spear-flag forward to challenge the power of infinite heroes head on.
Touta Konoe     "Yeah, could you imagine such a petty guy like me making rules for a new world? Imagine what that'd be like?" The kid smirks and teases the wish-granting monomyth as stormclouds form above. The very world around them falling to pieces as they all give their answers. As lightning strikes though the first strike comes, and everything single after-image that was left behind by the monomyth follows through as well.

    The attack gives off the sensation as being slashed at by multiple strikes by multiple enemies and Touta feels each and every cut that comes into his body. Into his chest, his arms, his legs every slash leaves a trail of blood upon this now barren earth. Yet...When the onslaught finishes he can't help but smirk. "You know, you seem pretty petty yourself now that I see it. You're so upset that we're not giving what you want you're literally making the new world your trying to build yourself have a tantrum! Or are you just having a problem keeping it all together?"

    Touta's not capable enough to make after images with mass like that, but he does have a sword that can accomodate for that by literally being the equivalent amount of mass of all those strikes at once! He follows into Jeanne's path seeing her trailblaze through the attack, he follows up her reckless strikes as he'd jump from behind her his wounds already slowly closing up with his blade above his head ready to strike down with a hammering blow to the monomyth with just as much disregard, "TWO-THOUSAND FOLD!!!"
Reiji Arisu     "You think I deny you just because of my family's oaths?" Reiji spits back at the beast of infinite possibilities, "I deny you because I saw for my own eyes what your damn 'potential' means! A system has to undergo thorough development? Alright, and how many people do you think are going to die as a result? How many lives are going to be ruined because we're working out a few bugs in the system!? We have within our own hands the power to change the world for the better, without throwing the entire system into a trashfire and trying to build the whole thing back up from scratch!"

The nascent godhead's words are easy to dismiss. When you've already made up your mind about something, it's simple to throw all else under the bus to make it real. But while the Monomyth is unable to move him, what Priscilla says...

He gives her a meaningful look, and allows himself a smile. "Hah, and he calls you callous? You've considered Gwyn's wishes more than anyone else, haven't you? The both of us-- if we were to just... Wish them back, that would just be for our own good, wouldn't it? No matter how much it hurts to be apart, no matter how much we might want them back, or how tempting it might be to seize that chance..."

"We're masochists, aren't we?"

The Monomyth moves. It strikes while Reiji is distracted with his own wistful sentimentality. A critical error. The exorcist struggles to keep up, knocking aside blade after blade after blade as a cascade of heroes leverage their mythical prowess against his own limited skill. Eventually it's too much, and a strike penetrates Reiji's guard, carving a deep, red gash across his chest. It's only the meager armor that he wears that prevents the blow from being fatal.

"You claim to be the one behind all of our heroes, the one standing behind all of them, but you insult my father in the same breath," Reiji growls to the nascent possibility, even as he ignites his own burning blade. A flash of flame blasts across his chest, instantly cauterizing the gaping gash before he can bleed out. He surges forward with sword and gun, each blow alternating seemingly at random between fire and ice and metal... "That man... That man chose death to protect the things he cared about. It wasn't the world, at the end, it was me! The world /I/ lived in! That damn fool, if he cared so much about the balance of all things, then he would have saved his own skin. He could have protected it better than a rookie kid. I'm the reason he's dead, the reason Shogo Arisu is no longer in this world! I thank you, for giving me the chance to meet him, to talk with him one last time. Finally, I can understand what was going through his head... What he was thinking then--"

Thunder roars across the sky again and he finally strikes with his electrified blade. If he planned it right, just enough earth-aspected energy would have been generated to draw a bolt of lightning out of the sky... And into the Monomyth. "At the end, that selfish man saved the one he loved at the cost of his own life! He decided that my life was worth saving, and I have to carry that with me for as long as it lasts! He sacrificed his 'possibility' to ensure mine! I will not have you, not /anyone/ spit on his legacy! Not while I'm still here to prove it was all worth it!"
Priscilla     "No. It is indeed so that out of all gathere here, I hath, at last, been the first to see sense when it is put before me." Priscilla calls out, crossing swiftly with the opening move of the Monomyth, dissuaded not in the least. "That it is not what thou see as sense, maketh it not so. That is a simple arrogance which far too many fall for."

    She crashes into the oncoming thrust. The surge of faces and blades, all different, yet all the same root; an infinity of variations on the same ur-maneuver of a hero's weapon. Priscilla isn't even invisible. All of her focus and power is invested into her scythe --in the absolute, unforgiving confidence which had taken her all the way from Annu to the Bastion. She leans right into it, and she *trades*.

    Priscilla leans all her momentum into her lead foot and hammers her step into the ground, freezing the grass and dirt solid around her anchoring point. She puts her weight forward and ploughs through the onrush of swords, releasing the scant, 'mortal' limits on her form and assuming her titanic, demi-divine size in a blaze of snow and wind. Swords crash across her lower half in myriad, cutting ragged furoughs through her dress, some stained at the edges with red, but she only slams her second step forward through the tide, priming back the tremendous weight and size of the true Lifehunt Scythe, and swings it at blinding speed through the hoard of proto-swordsmen, cleaving a hundred square meters in the blink of an eye.

    "I maketh no claims of short-sighted fallibility, nor of the follies of mortality, or some fundamental flaw in thine design. I see it already. Precisely the form mine wish wouldst inevitably take. And in the end, even I must admit, all that I wouldst wish for in the end --all it wouldst amount to-- is playing out again that which was already mine. No matter which desire I may think of, all of them, they all lead to the same terminus. There was, always, only ever one perfect world at the end of this, and making such a 'wish' is the more dangerous to what I hath left of it."

    "What is the use of doing over something that is not yet done? Why sew the rot of magic and miraculous fulfillment into such a singular vision?"
Eryl Fairfax     Jeanne stabs and slashes and burns. Like before, it produces mixed sensations, different feedbacks on the strikes. But a lot of the time, it is like hitting a person. The smell of burning flesh. The sensation of muscle tearing under steel. In becoming like them, the paradox has opened up a weakness.

    Touta's massive blow cleaves through the haze, splitting them open. A burst of static erupts from the wound, and reshapes the world around them. In an instant, they all stand upon a small spit of sandy earth in the middle of a vast ocean. Water surrounds them on all sides, and a couple of palm trees are the only feature. "A change in scenery. Here, we can fight anywhere."

    But while the world changes, the lightning remains. It lances down out of a now-clear sky and jolts the Monomyth. "Hrgh... you see? Already, you are making use of this place. That lightning was not a result of your careful elementalism, but your will. Already you are changing this place. It is that easy. Embrace it. Bring your father back, and make the reality where he saved you without dying real."

    Priscilla swings, and the trees and the earth and the ocean are cut and frozen. A gaping gash opens in the front of the Monomyth, and they stagger back. "Hrgh... can you be so certain? Your grandfather revealed other truths hidden in the dark you were utterly unaware of. What else may lurk in this 'perfect world' you've made for yourself?"

    A blue magic bolt strikes their head before they can recover. Cenedril is raining down Soul Arrows, backed by Clow who has summoned a punkish woman who is making each shot multiply in flight. A mass of sorcery crashes against the Monomyth, and they raise their sword to defend against it.

    And then an arm erupts from their shoulder.

    It's clad in a tan sleeve, and the hand is a mass of callouses. ""What is this?" the paradox asks, before the hand makes a fist and strikes them, before pointing frantically, as if to say 'keep hitting him!'

    "ENOUGH."

    Just as the dashing cut is a recurring technique, so too is the spinning slash. A technique designed to create breathing room amidst a horde of foes. The Monomyth spins, and the world moves about them. Their sword's reach massively telescoping, carving at everyone and everything on this tiny island, a maelstrom of figures moving on lockstep with them.
Touta Konoe     The blows of the other find enough purchase to not only cause damage but change the very fabric of the world around them whether it be in literally changing from the grass fields to a sand island, or Priscilla's attacks literally bringing ice to the landscape before them. The group seems to be giving this grail more than it could possibly wish for with the four of them chipping away at any possibility of it's victory, and with Cenedril and Clow providing support it honestly seems like an almost assured retaliation in comparison to the battle in the cave.

    Though even amongst all these attacks, Touta sees something...A possibility he hadn't expected arise. An arm pops out from his shoulder, a tanned sleeve and calloused hand appear from the haze entity and literally slam into it before pointing. "Wait...Is that...?" A smile slowly accrues on the young man's face before the spinning slash is given. The technique's intended purpose is met when it cleaves Touta in too with little resistance, but that's because there's no resistance at all. Rather...It seemed like Touta's mind and target was already on something else with that eager grin. "Hey Grail! Looks like you're gonna help someone here grant a wish after all!" The two parts of the boy's body merge back together and without missing a step he gets his hoop ready at his hips, the sand below not already frozen blows in all directions as his Revolution begins.

    Touta uses his own movement technique this time to get up and personal with the anomaly. His left hand grips at the calloused mass of a hand that was growing out from the body of the entity while the other is placed into a fist still wielding his blade in a tightened grip. "Time to give back what you stole, Revolution!!!"

    Touta uses his Revolution technique directly on the entity. His idea being just as it was before. To separate all the 'impurities' that were building up in it. While one hand was focusing on that, the other was grabbing onto the calloused hand for dear life, trying to pull it and whatever else was inside this monstrosity's shoulder out.
Priscilla     "I wouldst be too fond of pain, Sir Arisu, if I were to wish for what I yearn for so dearly, upon a thing of magic." Priscilla says to Reiji, glancing sideways with the spectre of a pained smile passing the corner of her lips. "I cannot say I am so eager to feel it again, after a hundred times the years even thou hast had to bear it."

    Seizing upon the lightning, Priscilla does exactly what the Grail begs of them. Intentionally, even. Priscilla redoubles her determination as she redoubles her assault. The sand turns to glittering particles of ice, the trees warped into towering, fractal roots of gnarled glass and frost, the waters flash freezing over, diamond dust fogging the air. The imprint of her resolution is so strong that it's utterly crushing, smashing deep, immutable imprints into the soft clay of potential. The master template of whirlwind attacks clashes against her, and she digs in her heels, twirling the full weight of the giant, solid pseudo-metal scythe with such unnatural agility that it may as well be balanced like a baton, crashing against uncountable shadows of future blades to come and throwing up fireworks of scalding white sparks.

    "No, the world as it is now, is nothing like perfection. It is that I knoweth what is." Priscilla calls out over the cacophony, straining herself to press in through the Monomyth's best attempts at keeping her back. "I knew it, once. I thought it long passed. That no matter what I couldst do, it wouldst never be the same. I wouldst never be satisfied. It wouldst never make me happy. I felt it a *responsibility* to move on from it. To be more like the Great Lord before I, whose footprints I couldst scarcely dream to fill."

    Letting loose a shrill roar as she finally presses through the last of the offensive defense, Priscilla swings her scythe up high and then brings it plunging back down to ground, stabbing deep into the foundation of the earth and driving its --her-- anathemic energies into the dream. The snow around and beneath the Monomyth stains read from below, bubbling with vivid scarlet brush strokes of blood. Where it spread, the world corrodes away. No, not corrodes. It's *eaten* away. Devoured at an alarming rate by scores, hundreds, thousands of formless maws of invisible teeth, closing in around the image of the ur-hero.

    "I thought to mirror that man's epic of responsibility. Of creation and preservation. His warmth and self-sacrifice. And what did I find, then, in seeing only a reflection of mine own grasping reach within him? A kindred soul with one singular desire for his world, without the scarcest ability to compromise, or to hold back? The true Gwyn --not the story that became him long after I had ceased to see him-- is proof of the truth."

    "I had thought that, were I to chase that dream, it was foregone that it couldst only once again end in tragedy. But what is that man if not immortal testament that, if one pursues one's dreamt of world with confidence, cleverness, passion, wisdom, ruthlessness, without compromise, with the fullest of one's being . . . that dream lasts forever."

    "A wish does not. Something borne only of desire, without blood or character, is something borne of countless points of failure. Birthed with its inevitable end already inside it. Such magic may be able to create anything, revise anything, accomplish anything, but what I care for is not to change the past, nor to create a new future. If I must employ secrets, sacrifices, darkness itself, then I will be glad still to do so. Wishing them away is to place a lifespan upon it all, for what I knoweth more than anything is that the things that make us suffer and deny us, they art the only things in this world by which we maketh anything of ourselves that lasts. All of us eventually destroy that which we lay our hands on through no adversity."
Ritsuka Fujimaru     The change in scenery actually has Jeanne raising an eyebrow in vague appreciation. "How thoughtful. A grassy field is much too... Bland. Something like this..." She gestures at the breaking world, swinging her banner overhead and bracing it over her shoulder while keeping that sword in front of her in a strange-looking stance.

    "Alas... So much potential, and yet there's still people just feeding into your message." That, at least, has Jeanne sounding disappointed. "But don't let the words of cowards color your views on all of us. I'll gladly take your power, but I'll take it without working with someone who's already failed!"

    Once again, Jeanne moves into the wide arcing slash of theMonomyth, aiming to plunge in with her own attacks in thaopening. It doesn't quite go so well for her this time as it did that first time, though, as the the telescoping blade carves through another chunk of Jeanne's armor and draws a pained cry when it hits her straight in the side.

    "Kkh...! That's more like it... This wouldn't be a true final battle if.. If you didn't start showing us the power you had to offer!" Changing strategies up a bit, Jeanne dashes sideways while hurling flaming spears towards the Monomyth. She waits until Touta rushes in following his bisection to charge back in herself, thrusting right for its lower body to try wedging her weapon in and give the vampire some extra leverage to pull with!
Reiji Arisu     "You don't think I've thought of it!?" Reiji barks back, his voice half-lost in the roaring thunder. "I spent more nights thinking about what could have been than I can even count. Who would ever claim that they wouldn't be tempted to erase all the pain, all the suffering they've ever experienced? It'd take a saint!"

And yet, he doesn't. He doesn't, but not because of any logical reason, not because of any meaningful logic.

The Monomyth strikes, a scything blow spiralling out to force them all away. The exorcist reels, absorbing the force of impact with the flat of his blades. Even then, the shock snaps several bones in his chest. Ribs crack and break. Something begins to bleed inside. But he surges forward in spite of the pain. Spite-- spite is part of it. But more than that...

"When dad died, I had to grow up quick. Too quick. I had to make myself better, stronger-- because I felt like I had to make up for what I'd lost. Because I had this... This /image/ of my dad in my head, some kind of lionized idol that I could never hope to live up to. Then I met him again-- not the hero that he'd become in my memory, but the man that he really was. I could never hope him to live up to the image I'd made up-- and for too long, I was afraid to... To break that illusion--"

"But he did that for me. That man, the one I thought was so much... Smaller than the person I thought he was. He went and sacrificed himself for me /again./ And again, I could do nothing to stop it. He was never the hero I thought, but he was just as great. Even though he was a lackadaisical idiot, his courage, his determination, his will-- those were real. His sacrifice was /real!/ His foolishness, his soft heart, his damn stubbornness, those were all real too. Everything that was great about him was made so much greater because of what wasn't. You say I can shape the world here as I wish-- but that's the problem, isn't it? If I were the man I was a few years ago, maybe I would have done just that. But... If I did, the man who would have survived that day would not have been the person my father was. The image of him within me was so much /weaker...!/"

"Wishing him back," Reiji answers as he plunges into the blossoming lotus of violence that is the Monomyth. He strikes with two blades at once. Plumes of fire and ice unfurl as one, mingling together-- before exploding in a cataclysm of antipodal energies. "Would be spitting on his legacy in a way I could never take back. Even if the me who would be then would never remember it, wouldn't even /think/ about it, /I/ could never bring myself to! To undo everything he was on a whim, to pave over the man he was with a /dream/ is just... Disgusting!"
Eryl Fairfax     They press in, through the whirlwind and ice and slashes. Touta and Jeanne are the first to reach the Monomyth. One attempting to break the paradox down, and the other stabbing through them to pin them in place. The humanoid void drifts apart, becoming that haze once more as they struggle to free themselves. "Don't you dare!" they bark. But it's too late.

    With a tug, Touta pulls Nagi Springfield free.

    "Haha! I made it back! With guts!" he declares, before quickly hopping away from the point of impact of Priscilla's strike. The world begins to vanish, eaten away by the Lifehunt. The paradox was not prepared for this. "Come back here!" it shouts, reaching for Nagi, only to be impaled further by Reiji's swords. "All this self-justifying drivel..."

    "You all think too small. To strike the environ like this, to mould it to your will? That is not all you can do. Watch this."

                  "The Servants of the Paradox War are dead."                  

    And in that instant, Nagi begins to fade away in motes of light. "Oh what?! This is some bullshit cheat power right here!" he complains, making a fist with his fading hand. With a fierce smile, he begins to move in on the Monomyth, but someone stops him.

    Clow takes the fading hand, and speaks. "But they live on, in us." Nagi blinks, as the motes of himself begin to drift into Clow. "Ooohhh, I get it. Still not happy with you, jackass, but fine." He shoots Touta a smile as he fades away. "Let's put this baby to bed, kiddo. Then we'll talk." And with that, Nagi fades away into Clow. Immediately, the mage looks much more hale and hearty.

    "Then take them, if you can." The island, the frozen sea, and the devoured sky all vanish at once, and everyone is immediately stuck in a freefall. They've been transported high in the air beside a massive skyscraper of reflective glass, and are now plummeting alongside it.

    The Monomyth is running along the building, chasing the party and swinging their sword. Another common ability of sword-wielding heroes is the ability to project some kind of beam or wave from it. Commonly a gift from a higher figure, or a mark of their growing skill. No matter the source, the Monomyth brings all kinds to bear against everyone, a crashing wave of cutting force. Clow sprouts wings and snatches up Cenedril to fly her to safety, but there's only so much he can do for everyone else.

    But something has changed about the paradox. That last transition felt rougher than the first. As if they had to cut away that 'possibility' entirely, like severing a festering limb. A crown juts from their back, atop a mane of gray.
Priscilla     "Call it what thou wilst, but ultimately, all hath their own justifications. What is thine own?" Priscilla flourishes blood and snow off her scythe, flickering with its eerie paroxysms of Dark; the three elements that never seem to be far from her when like this. "If thou rage that we reject thine purpose, then what sense is there in it? Who gave thee the right to be as infuriating thou art?"

    A little gout of icy fog passes between her lips, glittering and pale blue, at some silent puff that comes from her throat at Nagi reappearing. "Thou art as unwholesomely stubborn as ever, 'Ruler'. I had *thought* we were rid of thee too easily. Put that obtusely Grail-given power to use in taking care of this, and I may yet forgiveth thee."

    The world drops out from under her. Priscilla falls with a gasp, the snowy island around her disappearing and sending her hurtling through the air, plunging to certain doom, at the merest thought of the embodiment of the Paradox Grail.

    But it'd shown her how it works.

    It was I who orchestrated its end. We art here because of I, and I am owed what I wish for being the victor. Such is the ritual of the Holy Grail War.

    Priscilla disappears from the barrage of beams. Not just turning invisible, but actually vanishing completely, sending the slash waves flying through empty space to lash against the ground. In defiance of vector and gravity, she reappears behind the descending Monomyth, gaining on his downwards run by angling herself for a dive. Her scythe thrusts out, missing her target by a foot, then flicks sideways to flash the blade right out in front of him. Then, Priscilla turns on the haft and slams her feet into the side of the skyscraper, sending thin waves of ice down ahead of her to help drag her fall. The speed of the blade drops instantly well below the Monomyth's running velocity, flying right back at him. When it connects, Priscilla suddenly releases her grip on the building, and swings completely around him, corkscrewing the inner side blade around him in criscrossing bloody orbits, slipping it under the arm to take it off with the leverage of such a fall, and then flicking it again to catch the neck before she goes sailing away from him.
Ritsuka Fujimaru "Oh? What's wrong, Grail? I thought you had gotten fat consuming all the Servants. Why freak out over losing one mere Ruler?" Jeanne taunts despite (or perhaps because) Touta being right there, coughing painfully as she presses a hand against that gaping torso wound. Drawing her weapons back again as the paradox shows off its true capacity for reshaping reality, the Dragon Witch is caught off guard as the battlefield does a ninety degree turn and has her dropping straight downwards besides those skyscrapers.

     "Huh! This... No. No, I like this. I like this alot!" Jeanne bursts into that battle-maddened laughter of hers as she falls, flipping her sword into its scabbard and gripping that banner-spear with both hands to stabilize herself in midfall. It doesn't do much in terms of defending herself from the Monomyth's sword waves, though, as that freefall keeps her from doing much more than simply bracing herself against those slashing beams and losing more armor and blood in the process.

     "Geh... Take what? You... Are you confusing yourself with all those heroes you've eaten now? If that's the case..." Somehow, Jeanne is getting an idea. Instead of stabbing into the Monomyth again, she starts condensing her mana into herself. The flames burn brighter around the Avenger as they trail behind her at first, sticking to those skyscrapers. As more flames appear, however, they start speeding up while descending along the glass building towards the Monomyth at a rapid clip. Spears suddenly start to explode out of the skyscraper, bursting right towards the paradox in a massive barrage of flaming spears coming from the opposite direction of that existence-rending scythe as if to pin their target between two unrelenting forces.

     Infinite heroes. Infinite injustices. Infinite capacity for sin, self-righteousness, corruption of what used to be truly noble hearts. That is the true target of Jeanne's most powerful attack, and she puts her all into calling up those spears, those flames, that raw explosion of power.

    "Then take all of it... La Grondement Du Haine!"
Reiji Arisu "'Self-justifying drivel,' huh?" Reiji snarls. Clow's words aren't lost on him. Nor are the implications of Nagi's emergence, then immediate dissolution. "You really are an assembly of heroes. It'd take a heroic ego to be this absolutely self-righteous."

The world shifts again. It's a sudden, gut-wrenching change-- one that takes Reiji off-guard for the third time today. A beam of pure power scythes through him, scorching flesh and charring a deep cut across his shoulder jet-black. "Bloated with pride, sick with self-importance. But for all your power within this new world of yours, I can tell-- I could feel it back there. What fails to defeat us is a possibility cut away. With each blow, you diminish yourself. But that's not all--"

Reiji unholsters his shotgun and fires-- into the skyscraper. A shower of glass explodes out from the tower's facade, raining down in chunks. The exorcist twists in mid-fall, his toe finding purchase on one of the larger shards...

And, impossibly, he leaps /off/ of it.

...Toward the crown jutting from Potential's back.

"Ice King!" Reiji yells as he goes to drive his own frigid blade into the point where the crown meets the would-be godhead... And tries to lever it /out./ "I didn't know you well, but your power is something I can respect, at least! The heroes of the Paradox War are dead-- but they live on in us. In our memories. So we will take them /back!/"
Touta Konoe     Touta can't help but smirk Jeanne's way as she helps him. It's times like these that no matter how much she tries to say she wants to be an Evil Witch or something along those lines he can't help but think that she's really looking out for him still, and he'll definitely be messing with her about it later too! At the end of it all though, it seems they're successful and pulling out Ruler. Though he follows the gutsy Ruler's return being sure to avoid Priscilla's impact as well, being sure Jeanne did the same as well. Though even that isn't enough to stop the Grail from trying to take him back only to be impaled by Reiji's blades.

    Touta looks back at all three of these individuals with a smirk, even if it wasn't completely intentionally he appreciated the assist. He turns back to Nagi, "You know, I think this is probably the happiest I've been to see you since this damn thing st- ...Oh come on! I can't have two seconds with the guy?!"

    Before Touta can even have a pleasant family reunion at last, the Grail pulls more of it's absurd power to the forefront to start having Nagi fade away, it's only due to Clow's quick thinking that Touta's able to see that Nagi's motes of light are heading towards the mastermind as he goes into a free fall. It seemed like once again he was going to fall just short of reaching Nagi. Of catching the coat-tails of those people... Though the grin keeps getting wider for some reason, "Like hell I'm cleaning up your mess old man! You heard Pris! Time to get your ass to work!" Even in that free-fall the youth continues to spin that hoop so much that it almost seems that the air around him would have formed a cyclone. He's scene both the Haze and Clow use the Grail's power to their whim so if that was the case he might as well try to!

    The Servants of the Paradox War are dead. But they live on in us. "And they give us their strength!" Touta makes a declaration of his own, trying to force Nagi's motes of light from Clow towards him. To use Nagi's Power, no to use the Servants of the Paradox War's power for this last confrontation seemed all the more appropriate for the conclusion to this war. He'd take in those motes of light just as Clow had intended, though what would happen next was anyone's guess...

    The crashing wave of descending blade projectiles would follow the group down, Touta's blade strikes at each once dispersing each as they come, still finding himself knocked back but only bringing his descending free-fall closer to ending. Yet he stops that free-fall entirely with a mid-air shundo to correct his trajectory as he jumps towards the Building. With no time to transition he goes from the mid-air shundo, into another so that he can wall-run upwards towards the Haze. Funnily enough he was a type of swordsman who had no such striking projectile technique. When he wanted to swing something, it was always going to be with the actual blade itself. So As Priscilla and Jeanne have their strikes from opposite positions, Touta positions his swing with the power he tries to channel from Nagi, from the Servant of the Grail into an intersecting strike of his own.

            "MAGIA EREBEA: HEAVEN'S FEEL!"
Eryl Fairfax     The waves come crashing down, but Priscilla is gone. "Wha-" the Monomyth starts to say, before she is upon him. Gliding down the building and catching them on the blade of her scythe, carving at his form and throat. It lets out a choking sound around the weapon, and goes to try and push it out by the flat.

    But in that instant, spears leap out of the building, emerging from flames left by Jeanne. They arrest his momentum entirely, leaving him impaled and dangling as Reiji leaps to him, grabbing at the form jutting out. It slides out easily, but it is no Ice King or anything of the sort.

    It is Gwyn.

    Clow rushes in, and with an invocation of 'Power,' gains the strength to help pull the god free and support him. "Lord Gwyn! Wake up!" Cenedril shouts from under Clow's other arm, but the Lord of Sunlight is already fading into burning ash, akin to Nagi. "Look out!" Clow shouts, flying back away from the Monomyth as Touta's copied strike comes flying in, an arcing bolt of cutting lightning that slams into the figure.

    They've gone still. The world about is beginning to distort with static. Are they dead? "Grah... it cannot end like this... don't you see?" They're pulling themselves off those spears. "As long as the possibility of my win exists..."

<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <60> + 100 = 160

    "I CANNOT LOSE!"

COMBAT: Monomyth gained 2800 Health from: Heal Force

    They are free, and the fall turns into a ballroom, sending everyone tumbling across the floor as their figure faces them, revitalized. "The possibilities of you winning are slipping away also! Let us see who runs out first!" Another attack, a common one. A multi-hit flurry, great for building damage on singular foes. But here, it is every hero, using them at once against everyone. It seems hopeless.

    "Granddaughter..." Gwyn says. Even as he burns out, he speaks to Priscilla. "'Twas I that was the Sun. Radiating light, warmth, and understanding 'pon a barren land. But such light must cast deep shadows. Thou art not the sun. Thou art the guiding light, searching mine shadows. 'Tis you who is best suited for this new world. Thou shalt not fall here."

    He vanishes, and his ashes alight upon Priscilla and Cenedril both.

    "But they live on, in us."

    Flames seep into Priscilla's skin, and alight her soul. The light and warmth of the sun, gloriously incandescent, sinks into her core and becomes one with her being. Light shines from her eyes as the power of her grandfather becomes her own. A soul so great it could be split and still retain great power.
        But Priscilla's soul has power of its own dwelling within.

    Deep within her, the Fire comes in contact with something Dark. Two opposing forces, one which drives away the other, which rushes in when the first goes out. Diametrically opposed, they should cancel each other out.

    But Priscilla is a crossbreed, a melding of human, dragon, and god. Perhaps it is only within her that an impossible combination can occur.

    Dark, weighty flames erupt from her skin. They do not burn her, and issue and rage and ebb at her will. This impossible occurrence, this melding of humanity and divinity, is but hers to command.

                     DIAMETRIC MIRACLE: CROSSBREED DARKFIRE                    
Reiji Arisu It wasn't the Ice King at all. Honestly, Reiji would be feeling /tremendously/ awkward if he weren't simultaneously elated and desperately struggling to hold on to consciousness and the ability to fight back against the endless deluge of possibilities made real. He's knocked away as Gwyn, stripped out of the Grail's heart, dissolves again into so much ash. He remembers the first time he'd seen that happen-- deep within the Kiln of the First Flame.

He's honestly not sure which instance caused him to feel more relief.

"That's... One," Reiji growls as reality shifts again. He hits the ground hard, but rolls with the strike and twists back onto his feet... Just in time to find himself subjected to a veritable storm of lightning-fast blows. It's nigh-on impossible to deflect each and every one-- and dozens find purchase. Reiji's jaw clenches, he pushes through the blossoming bruises. "You said it yourself, Monomyth," the exorcist snarls as he begins trading blow with blow, abandoning any pretense of defense except what he can achieve in simulteneity with his own attacks, "No matter how improbable our victory, you would be a fool to count us out just yet--!"
Ritsuka Fujimaru      It lives. After all that, the Monomyth still lives. Jeanne takes a nasty bump as the freefall leads into solid ground once more, grunting painfully while she skids along the ground. Her frustration starts to grow more apparent as the paradox, true to its name, defies logic by just denying its own imminent defeat. "Your persistent bastard... You can't even accept your own death with dignity, can you?"

     It'd probably sound more convincing from Jeanne if she didn't sound as winded as she does. Once again, evasion is ignored in favor of just looking for openings in the attacks from the Monomyth's myriad forms, although that strategy seems to be backfiring compared to before.

     That won't stop Jeanne from being stubborn as hell, of course, but she's fighting on the back foot now even as she wills herself to keep thrusting and slashing with what little is still left in the tank for her. "Just.. Die already and give your power over to someone that can use it!"
Priscilla     Priscilla hits the ballroom floor, cracking its tiles, then tucking into a roll for several tumbling revolutions, stabbing the unevenly pointed base of her scythe into the ground, flipping herself upward, and using her tail for balance, lands on both feet. The flickering black and silver weapon snaps back into a low, forward-balanced stance, leaving one hand free which Priscilla half-clenches and aims towards the Monomyth, every muscle tensed. "As long as there is a possibility that thou may lose, thou cannot win. Does not the same truth apply in reverse?" she hisses, issuing blue vapour from her breath again, brighter and more surreal this time, as if dense with energy. The shadows cast by her weapon tremble and leap at the edges, lunging and retreating like grasping hands just out of the corner of the eye. "When one possibility is chosen to be real, all others cease to exist. The illusion of infinitude shalt save thee not. If thou can be wounded, I shall kill thee without fail."

    Before she rejoins the assault however, this time it is Gwyn pulled free of the Holy Grail's shell. Even as he crumbles away before her eyes, Priscilla halts, a pointed tooth digging down on her lip, knuckles squeezed white. Her throat convulses, and then, for just a moment, she half-chokes, half-laughs, one last reply. "I had not hoped to see thee once again, grandfather. Just after I had accepted it at last. Thine persistence of being knoweth no bounds. No matter how many times thou vanish the imprints thou hath left never truly grow any fainter."

    "That immortal dream of thine. The endless, unbreakable cycle of the sun thou has created. I will chase after mine own just like it. Whatever it is that thou must hath done for it, I am prepared to do the same." One, final, sad smile spreads across her face, even as her eyes water and shine with gratitude. "Greatest of all Lords and otherwise, it was those deeds, that journey that made thee who thou eventually became. I accept all of it."
Priscilla     And then, when the last, smouldering cinders alight upon her, Priscilla's whole form blazes with rekindled power. Bright, searing, Primordial, inextinguishable Flame. Firelight ripples and swirls ever upward around the contours of her silhouette, limming her entire body in the fire-shadow of the first light, even as her pitch black shade stretches dark and cold and bottomless as the deep ocean before her. Cast into total Dark, the sun at her back and the abyss at her front, ringed in a solid eclipse and her form a terrible shadow, Priscilla's eyes glow the gold that is the sole mark of their shared heritage, standing out against the night black suggestion of her face.

    "Fool that thou were." Priscilla calls out. Black fire tinged with white, monochrome and negative, spreads from her crouched posture, burning the ballroom floor as if slicked with oil. "There is no more lethal being in the entirety of the Multiverse. Out of all infinite possibilities thou reached out to, thou chose that which guarantees death without fail."

    Priscilla vanishes.

    Priscilla appears at the opposite end of the ballroom, far behind the Monomyth.

    Priscilla stands up, flicking her scythe towards the floor. Blood that wasn't drawn stipples the floor, then burns away.

    Lagging just a second behind, the air around and through the Monomyth explodes into a blinding cascade of purest white Fire and deepest black Dark, arcing, slicing, cutting, rending, howling and roaring through every possible orbit, a flashing constellation of blades multiplied to infinitude by the single pass of one. The formless, shapeless, unnameable Power carried within tears away at the fabric of possibility. It devours. It bites and tears and shreds and eats and devours and consumes the substance and soul until even the spirit gushes crimson. The frenzy closes in, compresses, and extinguishes itself in an implosive cataclysm of invisible distortion, stabbing the eyes with the impossible interplay of torn reality, rent asunder into a vacuum of Disparity that cleaves the infinite clean through.
Eryl Fairfax     Monomyth trades rushes with Reiji and Jeanne, its head actually splitting as if it were sneering. "A minor boon will not save you. You will expire long before I do. All of you." The pillars supporting the balcony above are cleaves and cracked, the whole place starting to come apart under the exchange.

    And then a hand juts from that split. A small, feminine one. "Rrrgh... no you don't!" The Monomyth shoves the hand back in, but it comes poking back out. And now something else is jutting from their side. A complicated, massive sheath for multiple weapons.

    And then Priscilla vanishes. The Monomyth turns, but she is too quick. Too quick by far that his expectations alone could not counteract her swing.

    They are cleaved in two, the halves erupting in dark spears, and from their form and their scream flies Archer and Lancer. Clow rushes in, aiming to snatch them up, but the paradox extends itself, trying to reclaim them for itself. Only for flames to lash at them. Fired from Cenedril. The young sorceror's eyes are wide as she manipulates her own Flame with Sorcery. "T-This is... long since lost arts..." She sniffs, and sends more fireballs at the Monomyth. "Thank you, Lord Gwyn."

    In this opening, Clow retrieves Rynith and Shogo, and deposits them by Touta and Reiji. Father leans on son and girl leans on boy. "You... really are a persistent employer, aren't you?" Rynith asks Touta, even as she begins to fade. "Thank you, Touta... now, one last time. Together."

    Shogo cracks a grin at his son and tossles his hair. "I brought someone with me. C'mon son. Like we should have had the chance to. Let's make this exorcism better than the last one we had together." He too, fades to join the spirit of Reiji.

    Touta feels arms wrap around him from behind, hands place themselves against the back of his own. The feeling wraps around him and sinks within him, touching the place where his dual blessing of Black Venus and White Mars intermingle. And then, like hands gently stirring a pot, the two begin to revolve without his input.

    His jacket begins to shine, sprouting a train that billows behind him as it goes from black to white. Side-stick experiences his own surge of power as lines begin to trace around his hilt and handle. Some kind of loading system is attached to him, as well as a magic battery.

    "There. And now the final touch," a familiar voice says from within. Touta's involuntary Revolution begins siphoning magic from the possibility all around him and feeding it into the new mechanisms on Side-stick. The blade glows white, before erupting into a pillar that pierces the sky. A blade of pure light, fed by the endless magic Touta is drawing in, simultaneously weightless and infinitely heavy as anything at the speed of light is. At the same time, his jacket produces a barrier around him, one also fed by endless magic.

                   PERPETUAL MAGIC DEVICE: SIDE-STICK ZANBER                    
Eryl Fairfax     Reiji feels not one by two spirits sink into his own. "Ready son?" says a familiar voice. "Because we are," says another, in a Russian accent. In shining light beneath Reiji's feet, the Wu Xing is traced out. The familiar table of the interplay of Fire, Water, Earth, Wood, and Metal. But it expands, a second circle wrapping around his torso, and a third above his head as a halo.

    rLines trace between the elements on all three, looping around and within him, a complex three-dimensional array of elements across three layers of itself. The power builds within Reiji, and erupts from his shoulder blades. Not as wings, as one would expect, but arms. Two extra pairs of ghostly hands, flexing and clenching at his will, even as two extra faces emerge from the sides of his head. Six eyes gazing in all directions, three minds working in concert.

    A second sheath hangs from Reiji's side. His father's array of swords and guns, his to use. A great rifle slings across his back, Misha's firearm. Plenty of weapons, too many even for his six arms. But more than enough for what stands before him.

                 FROM ONE GENERATION TO THE NEXT: PA KUA ASURA                  

    "This isn't happening," says the Monomyth. They frown, and say it again. "Why... why can I not prevent this?!" They snap, and the world shifts around them once more, now in a coliseum with seats that reach to the heavens, all packed with people. "Every single one of these onlookers is a life you deny by opposing me! Can you bear the weight of it?!" His stomach swells, and from it lances beams of lethal light. This is the Yin they previously observed. The inaction, the inactivity. No longer fighting as a hero, but as something Other.
Ritsuka Fujimaru     It's falling apart. The monomyth is breaking apart and losing its hold on all the Servants its eaten before, and that has Jeanne laughing once again even as its beams fire all around, tear into, and bite through her armor with enough power that her very form starts to shimmer with golden light in their wake.

    "Ghn... Of course you can't prevent it. You underestimate just how stubborn these idiots can be!" Jeanne snaps, somehow sounding like she's taunting and annoyed at both the paradox and everyone else at the same time. "For someone that's so focused on rules and how to twist them... Of course ignoring them entirely wouldn't make sense to you."

    There's a hint of a defeated tone in there. The Avenger hangs back for the time being, although it almost looks like she's doing it by necessity rather than by choice with how much damage she's taken in such a short time.
Priscilla     "But it is." says Priscilla. Her voice resonates, like rising from the depths of a bottomless well, and burns on the skin. Even with the change of angle, she is an eclipse. A void deeper than the Abyss, limmed in the wild red and smouldering gold of the First Flame and the Sun that embodies it. "Infinitude, eternity, means that all that couldst come to pass, shalt come to pass eventually. In infinite possibilities, art contained thine infinite defeats." She swivels effortlessly, so light and quick that she spins up on a single toe and her dress billows around her.

    "The anathema to all life. The White Lady of Disaster. The forgotten one. The Lifehunter. This blade cares not for victory, death, power, possibility, or even infinity. I extinguish all things."

    The coruscating beam of yin and yang, everything and nothing, infinity and null, comes blazing towards her. She brandishes the Lifehunt scythe, seething ink black and blinding snow white. The air splitting over its edge sings with the ethereal hum and chime of ice and glass, and the distant screaming of countless multitude. A casual revolution tears the beam to a million tiny shreds, snuffing out every last spark of both infinitudes from it, embers of power turning to blood and splashing across the floor.

    "Fool that thou were." she repeats once more, setting her stance in the middle of the coliseum grounds. "Out of all that is in the Multiverse, thou hast sealed thine fate by choosing the one who already bears that weight. The slaughter of a universe. Such frailty of resolution as to stop now . . ."

    She rushes forth again. Her traversal of space doesn't match her movement. Black footprints splash out crazily in all directions from her, tramping the sands in countless maddening spirals, catching flame in ghastly monochrome. She draws in close and chains head to toe revolving strokes of the scythe back and forth across the ur-warrior, crown to feet, lacerating its innermost substance. The point touches ground. She turns with it. It comes from the reverse direction. An uppercut throws up sand that turns to glittering snow. It hooks to catch and hurl into the air, then abruptly reverse and snaps down, crushed against the earth in a single clean motion.
Reiji Arisu "You say that," Reiji Arisu lies through a split lip, a mouthful of blood, and a body that has been savaged more thoroughly than he can recall in recent memory, "But I can keep this up all day."

He can't.

Clow might have turned back the clock, but the mind remembers all the injuries that time's inversion had erased. And now, broken and bloodied as he is, his fingers unable to properly curl around the hilts and triggers of his various weapons, Reiji is rapidly reaching his limits. But he struggles on regardless, enduring injury after injury, wound after wound. He's made his bed, there's no turning back from it. It's do or die, and he's rapidly losing the ability to do... anything.

And then Priscilla does something that is quite frankly painful to look at. Even from the corner of his eye, the image feels as though it's sticking pins and needles through his brain. But the result is something that refreshes Reiji's flagging spirit, even before anything metaphysical has a chance to take place. "Dad--" He grins in spite of himself. "--Hah. Anything would be better than that. This time, I don't need to worry about you dying by the end of it."

Shogo is, after all, already dead.

But he is not /gone./ He will never be gone. Reiji's spirit surges as his father's essence fuses with his own-- and brings another with it. Misha is there, too. In this instant, Reiji is too overwhelmed to contemplate the dire implications. He is filled with a power unlike any he has ever felt before. The Asura are a violent divinity, a race whose hearts are full of wrath and desire, kin to man and deva alike, but so enmeshed in worldly desires that they are forever denied enlightenment.

So too, then, is the trinity-manifestation that Reiji has become. There can be nothing ascendant about this. It is so fundamentally connected to the world, the universe-that-is, and all the things within it that enlightenment is denied at its premise. The three-dimensional array unfolds and connects, anchoring the three exorcists not only to one another and Reiji's physical form, but also tying the space in which they occupy inexorably to the laws of the world. "Always," Reiji answers the exorcists of the past as his limbs unfold, each seizing upon a different weapon. "Let's make this a combination to remember." The lessons of the past are handed over to the next generation; this is something that people forget all too frequently. History tends to repeat whether the players want it to or not, and it's all too often only by the lessons passed down that the outcomes may be changed.

Sometimes, transmitting those lessons takes sacrifice. Sometimes, it's the most painful thing in the world. But we live, and we learn.
Reiji Arisu "Why... You ask why?" Six eyes fix upon the Monomyth. Yin is unleashed in an impossible, unknowable torrent before an audience of countless lives that are yet-to-be. The lance of otherworldly light is stopped cold. Four of six arms swing in a flurry of blows, scattering fire and lightning in incredible amounts. Four blades hew crosswise through the beams of Yin, cutting each, impossibly, to pieces. "You call yourself Monomyth, but you don't understand why!? The bonds that tie past to future are stronger than anything you could hope to conjure! Everything here is mere possibility. Things that /could/ happen. A billion threads are meaningless if they are so tenuous! We in the present walk in the footsteps of those who came before, and in chasing after them, find our own paths and carve a road that leads further beyond! From father to son, to son, to son, and on!"

The Asura's arms dance faster than the eye can follow. Three souls operate in concert, unleashing a storm of elemental energy that lesser minds could only interpret as chaos. It is anything but. It is /nature./ The infinitely complex interplay of element with element, something that cannot possibly be reduced to the simple arithmetic sequences of generation, suppression or destruction. Fire, water, earth, metal and wood serve as individual expressions, operators through which the world's myriad aspects are represented by their combinations. But the complexity that flows forth from the trinity-warrior is something that reaches the domain of the unsolvable. Together, the three achieve an elemental onslaught closer to transcendental mathematics than calculus.

Even the audience of possibilities do not stop them. Reiji continues without mercy. "You try to sway us with 'what-ifs!?'" The Asura thunders, each combination of blows weaving a rich tapestry of natural phenomena. Its blows conjure storms and volcanic eruptions, weave tidal waves and tectonic catastrophes. "The lives you show us are as infinite as those that would be lost by accepting you! Each one represents something that could be, each as richly faceted as the next-- but I have witnessed for myself the chaos you would unleash! If you would ask us to choose between the lives of those who are and those who have yet to exist, then the answer is simple!"
Touta Konoe     There's a light that appears, it's something that alludes to the small feminine hand that bursts from the split. A glow that comes from Touta's pocket. The youth pulls out a card, different than those used by Clow. The card he had was the contract that had bound him to the Servant Lancer, Rynith. A card that upon her defeat had faded as do all Pactio cards that lose their contractee. Yet in this very moment that card was slowly glowing, the image of that person was returning if not briefly and with it a sort of disbelief. Truth be told...Someone had tried to use this person's death against him. He thought he had already accepted her departure never expecting to see this Servant again and even with that being the case... "R-Rynith..."

    The Servants surge from the split and from it their forms are truly brought back to both Touta and Reiji. "Rynith...It's really..." A miracle. A miracle, a wish, whatever you wanted to call it was happening here no matter how brief it was as these spirits returned. He can feel her weight as she's brought to Touta by Clow. He's more sure than ever that the person behind him, the one supporting him in this moment is none other than Rynith. Even as the world around the crumbles he feels a strange sense of ease knowing that this friend was supporting him still.

    "Rynith..." There's so much he wants to say. So much guilt he had welling up inside of him. Though, he knows this is it. This moment would not be immortal, so if that was the case he needed to make it worthwhile... He gives a smile just as sincere as he always does, though his eyes look like they could water over any moment. "Look who's talking, you've always been the most persistent employee...Seriously." After all, wasn't part of the reason he had taken Rynith on was to help him deal with the behind the scenes of this Grail War? If that was the case... "Even though you're putting in overtime...You've done exactly what you said you'd do."

    Before Touta can realize it, he can feel the magical forces within his body being intermingled. Not something that was occurring of his own doing but by an external force altogether. He watches Rynith perform a feat he wasn't even aware was possible by mixing the two magical bodies. The results are immediate though as he watches his black jacket illuminate in ways that it wouldn't even when using Thunder in Heaven. A more tranquil glow surrounds it as that surge of power turns it from black to white.

    "Rynith...So you were capable of such a feat......Hmph, even my creator would find himself impressed with such work...Truly a masterpiece..."

    That's all the blade can say as it feels the surge of magical power begin to surge through it, a compliment to an artisan that could only be expressed by the weapon itself. A compliment of the highest caliber if any could be given. It takes a moment to grasp this new power though as he sees the loading system, the surging of power all begin to form upon his rather small taichi and turn it into something that even someone like Shimousa himself would have found...Inspiring. Even more so as the blade begins to implement his Revolution, siphoning magic from not just their surroundings but all possibilities itself as the taichi's blade extends into the sky above, and his jacket begins to produce a magical barrier that continues to pulsate like that of an actual magician.
Touta Konoe     "Rynith...This power is..." It was beyond anything he could have ever hoped to achieve. Something he never even fathomed. A strength he was sure that if he used back in his world, if he was able to maintain he'd be able to solve the problems that plagued him. Though he knows this isn't something that can last. It's ephemeral, something so amazing and whimsical to him only because it's something that can last in this very moment. Something that's power didn't come from an the infinite and eternal, but from the finite and mortal. "MMmmm...Ya know, I bet even Saber Gramps would be jealous of a blade this amazing...I don't know if we'll cut Karma with it...But I feel like trying..."

    With that said the boy prepares his stance that seems so inconsequential when he holds a blade that pierces into the sky and beyond into the stars. His eyes focused as he prepares for a strike that wouldn't be possible without her with him now and it's because of this he finds himself uttering one last thing, "Rynith...Thanks. I'll try to become someone who can make miracles like this happen on my own...So from here on out, just watch where I go from here..." With that said his hands grip the blade once more and with all of his might he cleaves the blade with no end down upon the crumbling remains of the stage, upon the Haze. The blade comes down as swift as a though weighing nothing at all. As it collides with the earth it's as though another planet had decided to slam into the space they were inhabiting, shaking the very floor beneath them. The blade formed of the revolving magic cuts with a sharpness of a revolving blade that tears into the space created by the Grail, negating and absorbing it simultaneously as it cleaves through a world made of wishes and miracles with its final strike.
Eryl Fairfax     "Ridiculous. Even the end of all things must die eventually!" Monomyth meets Priscilla's charge, and tries to hold back against her scythe. And fails. Their blade is broken, and they are launched into the air.

    Reiji brings his combined might to bear. The wrath he visits upon the paradox is one truly worthy of the name 'Asura.' It cannot even muster a response to the man, It can only scream, and shed its human form, shrinking back down into an orb to try and cling to existence as best it can, marshalling all its power into defence.

    And then Touta's blade comes down.

    The orb is cleaved. The world is cleaved. The coliseum is annihilated in the blast, the sands underfoot scattered by the force of impact. By blade and siphoned magic both, the orb is cleaved in twain.

    They are left in a white void. And the broken paradox floats there. "Not over yet... the chance still exists... it must..."

<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <19> + 90 = 99

<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <17> + 80 = 97

<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <22> + 70 = 92

    "It's still trying!" Cenedril gasps. "We need to..." She's breathing hard. Flame Sorcery is taxing it seems. "One more... just one more blow...!"

    And then there is Jeanne. No special connections to anything, just the tagalong. No other Servants coming to back her up, no cool powerup... wait, who are these two woman? "A gift from me to you, to make up for all the trouble. Light, Dark!" Clow is kneeling beside the Servant, a hand on her shoulder again. The two woman, one clad in a dress as dark as the night, and the other in the most resplendent whites, nod. They place one hand against the other, and then use their free ones to take Jeanne's hands in their own.

    Jeanne had an unfortunate event earlier in the War, in which she became her 'other self.' The holier-than-thou virtuous saint, the goodie-goodie. Everything she is trying her hardest to not be. The shackle around her, the thing she is compared to. But as these two diametric concepts meld with her, she sees. By simply being contrarian to her namesake, is she not still bound to her? A reflection is still cast by the source, after all.

    In this moment of clarity, she sees the two roads ahead of her, and has a map for both. She understands the love and patriotism Jeanne d'Arc felt, and the need to protect those she cared about, but also comprehends how self-destructive such selflessness is. At the same time, she comprehends how her own bitterness and cynicism may be borne of the frustrations that her namesake held being so lionized, but knows she can be more than that.

    It is here, in this realm of boundless opportunities, embraced by concepts that reflect her own turmoil, that she is truly free. Here, she can be anything. Jeanne, Alter, or something else. For once, it is well and truly her choice. She wanted this power? It has been given to her. But along with it, clarity.

                     ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES: A SECOND CHANCE                    
Ritsuka Fujimaru     Jeanne can't help but smirk a bit at the trio of overwhelmingly powerful attacks coming from Priscilla, Reiji, and Touta.  It grows when the paradox grows increasingly agitated by it, and she waves a hand dismissively even as she feels her own strength returning.

    "I told you already. Logic has no please here. Maybe if you stopped thinking with it, you would understand!"

    It kills her inside to say that.

    Feeling Clow's hand on her once more, Jeanne lets out a groan at first before turning to glare at him once more. Before she can spout off something stupid, though, she sees those figures, and things...

    Things make sense. Against all logic, they make sense. They really shouldn't, but she's getting better at embracing just how bizarre the Multiverse is and what it has done to her.

    "... I've studied, if you can believe it. Far more than I needed to, just to make sure there's no doubts. Language, math, basic sciences, even..." Jeanne spits. "... Religion."

    "I still have no idea what the hell most of you are going on about most of the time. But..." She sighs again. "Ugh. I suppose it's not all crap if its gotten you this far."

    She glances at Jeanne d'Arc. "Certainly got her further than it should have..."

    She glances at Jeanne Alter. "... And it's gotten me this far already."

    Holding each hand in her own, Jeanne breathes in slowly as the power of Light and Dark become her own. Her grip remains tight as she draws her hands together, a beam of light enveloping one from above while dark flames churn around the other. A sword of light gripped by the blade, a banner wrapped around the pole and covered in black flames.

    "This soul filled with hatred... A fire howls within my heart and continuously burns to remind me..."

    Both pieces are raised, and the combined light and darkness somehow grows blindingly bright and exceedingly dim as flames, both holy and dark, erupt around the Monomyth.

    "La Grondement De La Pucelle!"

    There's no hatred or anger in the attack. It simply seeks to purify, to eradicate the paradox's very existence, to do what Jeanne never thought she'd ever put effort into doing.

    It seeks to save humanity.
Eryl Fairfax     "This can't be!"

<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <33> + 60 = 93
<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <26> + 50 = 76
<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <21> + 40 = 61

    "There must be an outcome where I win! At least one!"

<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <22> + 30 = 52
<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <22> + 20 = 42
<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <6> + 10 = 16
<DICE ROLLER> Monomyth rolled 1d100 <1> = 1

    "NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

    The orb is consumed in the conflagration of merciful cruelty. Flames meant to purge that which threatens mankind, never seen, and possibly never seen again. But in that instant, they serve their purpose.

    The paradox cracks, and crumbles. Leaving behind the Holy Grail.

    Cenedril falls back in shock, only to be caught and righted by Clow. "It's over... wait, no it isn't." Clow nods. "Indeed. To truly resolve matters, a wish must be made and granted." The girl rubs her face. "Uhm... well, I don't want to bring Lord Gwyn back anymore. Queen Priscilla is right. Um, maybe my old wish, to revive everyone who Hollowed? But... that must be so many. It would almost be like the Curse is back, the dead rising like that. And could the world even hold so many?..."

    The girl bites her thumb. Not looking much older, but clearly much wiser. "Oh... I need a moment. Um, I'm sure you all have things to say to... everyone. Please, take your time. I'll try to have something by the time you're all done."
Priscilla     "If that were so." says Priscilla, turning away from Monomyth, releasing a breath that is no longer unreal frost, but a thin gout of blurred gold and black fire. "Then wouldst this power not hath consumed me long ago? Though not even I knoweth why, it is agonizingly clear, is it not? If I am all that wields this, that which sheds unlimited blood 'till infinity's death, then I am that which is left standing at the end."

    She raises a hand, pricked with glowing cinders where they might otherwise bleed. "Before life and death. Before light and dark. Before souls. Before time. The the Everlasting sways not to an epehemeral dream, no matter how bright, no matter how grand."

    She snaps her fingers. Sparks fly from them, fizzling into nothing. The accumulated damage caused by her scythe redoubles and erupts from within, spraying rending arcs of raw possibility from the inside out. A split second before Jeanne's last move. A lead in to the coup d'etat.

    The Monomyth is destroyed. The origin of all potential stories reduced to one, and with that defeat, all possibilities collapse into that singular, final tale.

    The power leaves her all at ones, and Priscilla sinks to her knees, only managing to keep the Lifehunt Scythe clenched in her fingers by adrenaline-soaked reflex. The stark white of snow comes back to her as both Dark and Flame blow away, revealing her bloody cuts, burnt fingertips, and her limbs shaking with tension and overexertion. She leans her head back, taking deep breath after deep breath, slowing her wild pulse, simply allowing the pain to bloom sharp and hot and then fade to a stinging ache, before slowly pulling herself up to her feet.

    "Lady Cenedril." she says, the breath leaving her now only carrying the tones of resolution. "Maketh a wish that thou can be proud of. Think not for inconvenience. To wish for what is acceptable to others rather than thine own heart's desire is a use of a wish that only, invariably, bringeth pain and catastrophe. Anything it is that thou couldst wish for; it is within mine ability to surmont, no matter what may cometh of it."

    "This is the opportunity that thou were promised. That thou fought for. That *I* fought for. Wish for that which will allow thee to return home with thine head held high, as befitting of one who was, even if for a short while, called ally to the Great Lord Gwyn."